A  TRUE  STORY. BY 

WILLIAM  H.  RYUS 


I 

Ur 

SANTA^CRUZ 


WILLIAM  H.  RYUS 


/The 

Second    William    Penn 


A  true  account  of  incidents  that  happened 

along  the  old  Santa  Fe  Trail 

in  the  Sixties. 


w:  H:  RYUS 

KANSAS  CITY,  KANSAS 


Press  of 

FRANK  T.  RILEY  PUBLISHING  CO. 
Kansas  City,  Mo. 


Copyright,  1913,  by 

W.  H.  RYUS 
Kansas  City,  Kansas 


PREFACE 

By  Col.  Milton  Moore 


Y 


"OU  who  take  the  trouble 
to    read    these    reminis- 
cences of  the   Santa  Fe 
Trail   may   be   curious   to   know 
how  much  of  them  are  literally 
true. 

The  writer  of  this  preface  was 
intimately  acquainted  with  the 
author  of  this  book,  and  knows 
that  he  has  not  yielded  to  temp- 
tation to  draw  upon  his  imagina- 
tion for  the  incidents  related 

COL.  MILTON  MOORE.  herein,  but  has  adhered  strictly 
to  the  truth.  Truth  is,  sometimes,  "stranger  than  fiction," 
and  is  an  indispensable  requisite  to  accurate  history,  yet  it 
may  sometime  destroy  the  charm  of  fiction. 

The  author  of  this  book  had  a  real  and  exceptional 
knowledge  of  Indian  character  and  Indian  traits,  and  his 
genuine  tact  in  trading  and  treating  with  them,  and  the 
success  which  he  had  in  sustaining  friendly  relations  with 
them  was  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  West,  and  was  a  cir- 
cumstance of  much  comment  by  those  who  had  occasion 
to  use  the  Santa  Fe  Trail. 

It  is  small  wonder,  then,  that  "Little  Billy  of  the  Stage 
Coach"  won  for  himself  the  title  of  the  "Second  William 
Penn." 

In  the  early  Sixties,  the  region  through  which  the  Old 
Trail  passed  was  an  unexplored  territory  where  constant 
struggles  for  supremacy  between  the  Wild  Red  Man  and 
the  hardy  White  man  were  carried  on. 

Many  and  tragical  were  the  hardships  endured  by  those 
who  attempted  to  open  up  this  famous  highway  and  estab- 


6  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

lish  a  line  of  communication  between  the  East  and  the 
West.  The  only  method  of  travel  was  by  odd  freight 
caravans  drawn  by  oxen  or  the  old-fashioned,  lumbering 
uncomfortable  Concord  Stage  Coaches  drawn  by  five  mules. 

The  stage  coach  carried  besides  its  passengers  the 
United  States  mail  and  express. 

An  escort  of  United  States  militia  often  accompanied 
the  stage  coach  in  order  to  protect  it  against  attacks  of 
the  Indians  at  that  time  when  the  plains  were  invested 
with  the  Arapahoes,  Comanches,  Cheyennes,  Kiowas  and 
other  tribes,  some  of  whom  were  on  the  warpath,  bedecked 
in  war  paint  and  feathers. 

The  Indians  were  often  in  search  of  something  to  sat- 
isfy their  hunger,  rather  than  the  scalps  of  the  white  men. 
The  author  of  this  book  won  their  confidence  and  friend- 
ship by  dividing  with  them  his  rations,  and  showing  them 
that  he  was  willing  to  compensate  them  for  the  privilege 
of  traveling  through  their  country.  He  had  so  many 
friendly  conferences  and  made  so  many  treaties  with  them 
while  on  his  trips  across  the  plains  that  he  came  to  be 
called  the  "Second  William  Penn." 

He  came  into  personal  contact  with  the  famous  chiefs 
of  the  Indian  tribes,  and  won  their  good  will  to  such  an 
extent  that  their  behavior  toward  him  and  his  passengers 
was  always  most  excellent. 

The  author  has,  in  these  pages,  told  of  many  encounters 
between  the  whites  and  the  Indians  that  were  narrated  to 
him  by  the  Indians.  He  holds  the  Indians  blameless  for 
many  of  the  attacks  attributed  to  them,  and  calls  attention 
to  the  Chivington  Massacre  and  the  Massacre  of  the  Nine 
Mile  Ridge,  related  in  the  following  pages. 

He  begs  the  readers  not  to  censure  too  severely  the  In- 
dian who  simply  pleaded  for  food  with  which  to  satisfy 
his  hunger,  and  sought  to  protect  his  wigwam  from  the 
murderous  attacks  of  unscrupulous  white  men. 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  7 

I  gladly  recommend  this  tale  as  sound  reading  to  all  who 
desire  to  know  the  truth  concerning  the  incidents  which 
actually  occurred  along  the  Old  Trail,  and  the  real  friendly 
relations  which  existed  between  the  Indians  and  the  white 
men,  such  as  our  Author  and  Kit  Carson,  who  were  well 
acquainted  with  their  motives  and  characteristics. 

Respectfully  submitted, 

MILTON  MOORE. 


THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 


"Bathe  now  in  the  stream  before  you, 
Wash  the  war-paint  from  your  faces, 
Wash  the  blood-stain  from  your  fingers, 
Bury  your  war-clubs  and  your  weapons, 
Break  the  red  stone  from  this  quarry, 
Mould  and  make  it  into  Peace  Pipes, 
Take  the  reeds  that  grow  beside  you, 
Deck  them  with  your  brightest  feathers, 
Smoke  the  calumet  together, 
And  as  brothers  live  henceforward." 

(Hiawatha.) 


REMINISCENCE  OF  THE  OLD  SANTA  FE 

TRAIL.    BY  W.  H.  RYUS,  MAIL  AND 

EXPRESS  MESSENGER  AND 

CONDUCTOR. 

Introductory. 

W.  H.  Ryus,  better  known  as  "the  Second  Wil- 
liam Penn"  by  passengers  and  old  settlers  along 
the  line  of  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail  because  of  his 
rare  and  exceptional  knowledge  of  Indian  traits 
and  characteristics  and  his  ability  to  trade  and 
treat  with  them  so  tactfully,  was  one  of  the  boy 
drivers  of  the  stage  coach  that  crossed  the  plains 
while  the  West  was  still  looked  upon  as  "wild  and 
wooly,"  and  in  reality  was  fraught  with  numerous, 
and  oftentimes,  murderous  dangers. 

At  the  time  this  story  is  being  recalled,  our  au- 
thor is  in  his  seventy-fourth  year,  but  with  a  mind 
as  translucent  as  a  sea  of  glass,  he  recalls  vividly 
many  incidents  growing  out  of  his  travels  over  the 
Santa  Fe  Trail. 

Having  the  same  powers  of  appreciation  we  all 
possess,  for  confidences  reposed  in  him,  he  lov- 
ingly recalls  how  his  passengers  would  press  him 
to  know  whether  he  would  be  the  driver  or  con- 
ductor to  drive  the  coach  on  their  return.  Some 
of  these  passengers  declare  that  it  was  really  beau- 
tiful to  see  the  adoration  many  Indians  heaped 
upon  the  driver,  "Little  Billy  of  the  Stage  Coach," 
and  they  understood  from  the  overtures  of  the  In- 
dians toward  "Billy"  that  they  were  safe  in  his 
coach,  as  long  as  they  remained  passive  to  his  in- 
structions, which  were  that  they  allow  him  to  deal 
with  whatever  red  men  they  chanced  to  meet. 


10  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

Sometimes  a  band  of  Indians  would  follow  his 
coach  for  miles,  protecting  their  favorite,  as  it 
were,  from  dangers  that  might  assail  him.  They 
were  always  peaceable  and  friendly  toward  Billy 
in  exchange  for  his  hospitality  and  kindness.  It 
was  a  by-word  from  Kansas  City  to  Santa  Fe  that 
"Billy"  was  one  boy  driver  and  conductor  who 
gave  the  Indians  something  more  than  abuse  to 
relate  to  their  squaws  around  their  wigwam  camp- 
fires. 

The  dangerous  route  was  the  Long  Route,  from 
Fort  Larned,  Kansas,  to  Fort  Lyon,  Colorado,  the 
distance  was  two  hundred  and  forty  miles  with  no 
stations  between.  On  this  route  we  used  two  sets 
of  drivers.  This  gave  one  driver  a  chance  to  rest 
a  week  to  recuperate  from  his  long  trip  across  the 
"Long  Route."  A  great  many  of  the  drivers  had 
nothing  but  abuse  for  the  Indians  because  they 
were  afraid  of  them.  This  made  the  Indians  feel, 
when  they  met,  that  the  driver  considered  him  a 
mortal  foe.  However,  our  author  says  that  had 
the  drivers  taken  time  and  trouble  to  have  made 
a  study  of  the  habits  of  the  Indians,  as  he  had  done, 
that  they  could  have  just  as  easily  aroused  their 
confidence  and  secured  this  Indian  protection 
which  he  enjoyed. 

It  was  a  hard  matter  to  keep  these  long  route 
drivers  because  of  the  unfriendliness  that  existed 
between  them  and  the  Indians,  yet  the  Old  Stage 
Company  realized  a  secureness  in  Billy  Ryus,  and 
knew  he  would  linger  on  in  their  employ,  bravely 
facing  the  dangers  feared  by  the  other  drivers  and 
conductors  until  such  a  time  as  they  could  employ 
other  men  to  take  his  place. 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  11 

Within  the  pages  of  this  book  W.  Ryus  Stanton 
relates  many  amusing  and  interesting  anecdotes 
which  occurred  on  his  stage  among  his  passengers. 
From  passengers  who  always  wanted  to  return  on 
his  coach  he  always  parted  with  a  lingering  hope 
that  he  would  be  the  driver  (or  conductor,  as  the 
case  might  be)  who  would  return  them  safely  to 
their  destination.  Passengers  were  many  times 
"tender-footed,"  as  the  Texas  Rangers  call  the 
Easterners.  Billy  soothingly  replied  to  all  ques- 
tions of  fear,  soothingly,  with  ingenuity  and 
policy. 

Within  Billy's  coach  there  was  carried,  what 
seemed  to  most  passengers,  a  superfluity  of  provi- 
sion. It  was  his  fixed  theory  that  to  feed  an  Indian 
was  better  than  to  fight  one.  He  showed  his  pas- 
sengers the  need  of  surplus  foods,  if  he  had  an  idea 
he  would  be  visited  by  his  Red  Friends,  who  may 
have  been  his  foes,  but  for  his  cunning  in  devising 
entertainment  and  hospitality  for  them.  The 
menus  of  these  luncheons  consisted  chiefly  of  buf- 
falo sausage,  bacon,  venison,  coffee  and  canned 
fruits.  He  carried  the  sausage  in  huge  ten-gallon 
camp  kettles. 

The  palace  coaches  that  cross  the  old  trail  today 
pulled  by  the  smoke-choked  engines  of  the  A.  T. 
&  Santa  Fe  R.  R.  carry  no  provision  for  yelling 
Comanches,  Cheyennes,  Arapahoes,  etc.  They  lose 
no  time  treating  and  trading  with  the  Indians,  and 
are  never  out  of  sight  of  the  miraculous  changes 
exhibited  by  the  advanced  hand  of  civilization. 


CHAPTER   I. 
In  1861  He  Starts  as  Mail  Driver. 

In  the  spring  of  1861  I  went  home  to  Burlin- 
game,  Kansas,  and  went  to  work  on  the  farm  of 
O.  J.  Niles.  I  had  just  turned  the  corner  of  twenty- 
one  summers,  and  I  felt  that  life  should  have  a 
"turning  point"  somewhere,  so  I  took  down  with 
the  ague.  This  very  ague  chanced  to  be  the  "turn- 
ing point"  I  was  looking  for  and  is  herewith 
related. 

Mr.  Veil  of  the  firm  of  Barnum,  Veil  &  Vickeroy, 
who  had  the  mail  contract  from  Kansas  City,  Mis- 
souri, to  Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico,  stopped  over  at 
Burlingame,  Kansas,  and  there  met  Mr.  Niles,  the 
man  for  whom  I  was  working.  Mr.  Veil  told  Mr. 
Niles  that  he  wanted  a  farmer  boy  to  drive  on  the 
Long  Route  because  the  stage  drivers  he  had  were 
cowards  and  not  satisfactory.  Niles  told  him  that 
he  had  a  farm  hand,  but,  he  added,  "he  won't  go, 
because  he  has  the  ague."  "Oh,  well,"  Mr.  Veil 
replied,  "that's  no  matter,  I  know  how  to  cure  him; 
I'll  tell  him  how  to  cure  himself."  So  they  sent 
for  me,  and  Veil  told  me  how  to  get  rid  of  the  ague. 
He  said,  "you  dig  a  ditch  in  the  ground  a  foot  deep, 
and  strip  off  your  clothing  and  bury  yourself,  leav- 
ing only  your  head  uncovered,  and  sleep  all  night 
in  the  Mother  Earth."  I  did  it.  I  found  the  earth 
perfectly  dry  and  warm.  I  had  not  much  more 
than  engulfed  myself  when  the  influences  of  the 
dry  soil  began  to  draw  all  the  poison  out  of  my 
body,  and  I  had,  as  I  most  firmly  believe,  the  most 
peaceful  and  delightful  slumber  I  had  ever  experi- 


THE    SECOND    WILLIAM    PENN  13 

enced  since  infancy.  From  that  day  until  the  pres- 
ent time  I  have  never  had  another  chill.  I  gained 
40  pounds  of  flesh  in  the  next  three  months.  I 
have  known  consumption  to  be  cured  with  the 
same  "ague  cure"  on  the  plains. 

The  distance  from  Kansas  City  to  Fort  Larned, 
Kansas,  is  three  hundred  miles.  The  distance  from 
Fort  Larned  to  Fort  Lyon,  New  Mexico,  is  two 
hundred  and  forty  miles,  and  from  Fort  Lyon  to 
Fort  Union  it  is  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles, 
from  Fort  Union  to  Santa  Fe  it  is  one  hundred  and 
eighty  miles,  making  nine  hundred  miles  for  the 
entire  trip. 

The  drive  from  Fort  Larned,  Kansas,  to  Fort 
Lyon,  Colorado,  was  known  as  the  Long  Route, 
being  240  miles,  with  no  stations  between;  but 
across  that  treacherous  plain  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail 
I  made  the  trip  sixty-five  times  in  four  years,  driv- 
ing one  set  of  mules  the  entire  distance,  camping 
out  and  sleeping  on  the  ground. 

The  trips  were  made  with  five  mules  to  each 
coach,  and  we  took  two  mules  with  us  to  supply 
the  place  of  any  mule  that  happened  to  get  sick. 
Sometimes,  strange  to  note,  going  on  the  down 
grade  from  Fort  Lyon  to  Fort  Larned  we  would 
have  a  sick  mule,  but  this  never  occurred  on  the 
up-grade  to  Fort  Lyon.  When  a  mule  was  sick 
we  left  it  at  Little  Coon  or  Big  Coon  Creek.  Lit- 
tle Coon  Creek  is  forty  miles  from  Fort  Larned. 
When  Fort  Larned  was  my  headquarters  I  always 
went  after  my  sick  mules,  if  I  had  any,  the  next 
day  and  brought  them  in.  Fort  Larned  was  the 
regular  built  fort  with  a  thousand  soldiers,  a  set- 
tlers' store,  and  the  Stage  Company's  station  with 
its  large  corral  of  mules  and  horses;  it  was  the 


14  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

headquarters  of  the  Long  Route  to  furnish  the 
whole  route  to  Santa  Fe.  If  the  sick  mules  hap- 
pened to  be  at  Little  Coon  Creek,  the  round  trip 
would  be  eighty  miles,  and  it  would  sometimes 
take  me  and  my  little  race  pony  several  days  to 
make  the  trip,  owing  of  course  to  the  condition  of 
the  sick  mule  and  its  ability  to  travel.  Camping 
out  on  these  trips,  I  used  my  saddle  for  a  pillow 
while  my  spread  upon  the  ground  served  as  my 
bed.  I  would  tie  the  lariat  to  the  saddle  so  the 
pony  would  graze  and  not  get  too  far  away  from 
our  "stomping  ground."  If  the  wolves  came 
around,  which  they  often  did,  the  pony  would  come 
whinnying  to  me,  stamp  on  the  ground  and  wake 
me  up.  I  usually  scared  them  away  by  shooting 
over  their  heads. 

When  we  had  several  passengers,  and  wished  to 
make  time,  we  took  two  coaches  with  two  drivers 
and  one  conductor  who  had  charge  over  the  two 
coaches.  There  was  the  baesfage  of  several  pas- 
sengers to  carry,  bedding  for  ourselves,  provision 
for  the  whole  crew  and  feed  for  the  mules.  We 
usually  made  from  fifty  to  sixty  miles  a  day,  owing 
to  the  condition  of  the  road  and  weather. 

Sometimes  coyotes  and  mountain  wolves  would 
molest  us.  The  mountain  wolf  is  about  as  large 
as  a  young  calf,  and  at  times  they  are  very  dan- 
gerous and  blood-thirsty.  At  one  time  when  my 
brother,  C.  W.  Ryus,  was  with  me  and  we  were 
going  into  Fort  Lamed  with  a  sick  mule,  five  of 
those  large  and  vicious  mountain  wolves  suddenly 
appeared  as  we  were  driving  along  the  road.  They 
stood  until  we  got  within  a  hundred  feet  of  them. 
I  cracked  my  whip  and  we  shot  over  their  heads. 
They  parted,  three  going  on  one  side  of  the  road 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  15 

and  two  on  the  other.  They  went  a  short  distance 
and  turned  around  and  faced  us.  We  thought  we 
were  in  for  a  battle,  and  again  we  fired  over  their 
heads,  and,  greatly  to  our  satisfaction  and  peace 
of  mind,  they  fled.  We  were  glad  to  be  left  alone 
and  were  willing  to  leave  them  unharmed.  Had 
we  used  our  guns  to  draw  blood  it  is  possible  that 
they  would  have  given  chase  and  devoured  us.  We 
would  not  have  been  in  the  least  alarmed  had  we 
advanced  upon  five  Indians,  for  we  would  have  in- 
vited them  to  join  us  and  go  to  the  station  with  us 
and  get  something  to  eat.  Not  so  with  the  wolves, 
they  might  have  exacted  our  bodies  before  they 
were  satisfied  with  the  repast. 

I  was  never  afraid  of  Indians,  so  hardly  ever 
took  an  escort.  My  greatest  fear  was  that  some 
white  man  would  get  frightened  at  the  sight  of  the 
reds  and  kill  one  of  their  band,  and  I  knew  if  that 
should  happen  we  were  in  grave  danger.  I  always 
tried  to  impress  my  passengers  that  to  protect  our- 
selves we  must  guard  against  the  desire  to  shoot 
an  Indian.  Not  knowing  how  to  handle  an  Indian 
would  work  chaos  among  us.  The  Indians  did  not 
like  the  idea  of  the  white  race  being  afraid  of  them 
— the  trains  amassing  themselves  together  seemed 
to  mean  to  the  Indian  that  they  were  preparing  for 
battle  against  them,  and  that  made  them  feel  like 
"preparing  for  war  in  time  of  peace." 

At  one  time  on  my  route  I  remember  as  we  were 
passing  Fort  Dodge,  Kansas,  a  fort  on  the  Arkan- 
sas River,  there  was  a  caravan  of  wagons  having 
trouble  with  the  Indians.  I  had  an  escort  of  some 
ten  or  fifteen  soldiers,  but  we  passed  through  the 
fray  with  no  trouble  or  hair-splitting  excitement. 


CHAPTER   II. 
The  Nine  Mile  Ridge  Massacre. 

During  the  coldest  time  in  winter,  in  the  month 
of  January,  1863,  nine  freight  wagons  left  Santa 
Fe,  New  Mexico,  on  their  way  East.  A  few  miles 
before  they  reached  the  Nine  Mile  Ridge  they  en- 
countered a  band  of  almost  famished  Indians,  who 
hailed  with  delight  the  freight  wagons,  thinking 
they  could  get  some  coffee  and  other  provision. 
In  this  lonely  part  of  the  world,  seventy-five  miles 
from  Fort  Larned,  Kansas,  and  a  hundred  and 
sixty-five  miles  from  Fort  Lyon,  without  even  a 
settler  between,  it  was  uncomfortable  to  even  an 
Indian  to  find  himself  without  rations. 

The  Nine  Mile  Ridge  was  a  high  elevation  above 
the  Arkansas  River  road  running  close  to  the 
river,  on  top  of  the  ridge.  The  Indians  followed 
the  wagons  several  miles,  imploring  the  wagon 
boss  to  give  them  something  to  eat  and  drink, 
which  request  he  steadily  refused  in  no  uncertain 
voice.  When  it  was  known  by  the  red  men  that 
the  wagon  boss  was  refusing  their  prayers  for  sub- 
sistence they  knew  of  no  other  method  to  enforce 
division  other  than  to  take  it  from  the  wagons. 

The  leader  of  the  band  went  around  to  the  head 
of  the  oxen  and  demanded  them  to  corral,  stop  and 
give  them  some  provision.  During  the  corraling 
of  the  train  one  wagon  was  tipped  partly  over  and 
the  teamster  shot  an  Indian  in  his  fright.  Then 
the  Indians  picked  up  their  wounded  warrior, 
placed  him  on  a  horse  and  left  the  camp,  deter- 
mined to  return  and  take  an  Indian's  revenge  upon 


THE  SECOND  WILLIAM   PENN  17 

the  caravan.  The  wagon  boss  went  into  camp  well 
satisfied — but  not  long  was  his  satisfaction  to  last. 

After  the  Indians  departed  several  teamsters  who 
thought  they  knew  what  was  desired  by  the  In- 
dians reproached  their  wagon-boss  for  not  having 
complied  with  their  request  to  give  them  food. 
His  action  in  refusing  food  resulted  in  a  mutiny 
on  the  part  of  the  teamsters,  and  after  the  oxen 
were  turned  out  to  graze,  the  dispute  between  the 
teamsters  and  the  wagon-boss  became  so  turbu- 
lent that  if  a  few  peaceably  inclined  drivers  had 
not  arraigned  themselves  on  the  side  of  the  wagon- 
boss  he  would  have  been  lynched. 

Before  daylight  the  Indians  returned  and  at- 
tacked the  wagons  and  killed  all  the  whites  but  one 
man  who  escaped  down  the  bank  into  the  river. 
He  floated  down  until  he  was  out  of  hearing  of 
the  Indians.  When  he  was  almost  worn  out  and 
half  frozen  he  got  out  of  the  river,  wrung  the 
water  from  his  clothing  and  started  for  Fort 
Larned,  seventy-five  miles  distant.  After  leaving 
the  water  he  noticed  a  fire,  and  knew  instinctively 
that  the  Indians  had  set  fire  to  their  wagons,  and 
wondered  how  many,  if  any,  of  the  company  had 
escaped  as  he  had  so  far  done. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  a  troop  of 
soldiers  discovered  this  man  several  miles  from 
Fort  Larned  in  an  almost  exhausted  condition, 
dropping  down  and  getting  up  again.  The  com- 
manding officer  sent  out  some  soldiers  and  brought 
him  to  the  fort.  I  talked  with  this  man,  and  he 
told  me  that  if  the  wagon-boss  had  given  the  In- 
dians something  to  eat,  entertained  them  a  little, 
or  given  them  the  smallest  hospitality,  he  believed 
they  would  all  have  been  saved  from  that  massacre. 


18  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PEN& 

He  said  the  Indians  plead  with  the  wagon-boss  for 
food,  and  he  thought  if  the  teamster  had  not  lost 
his  equanimity  and  made  that  first  luckless  shot 
the  massacre  of  the  Nine  Mile  Ridge  would  never 
have  become  a  thing  of  history. 

This  tragedy  created  a  great  fright  and  made 
traveling  across  the  plains  difficult.  The  Indians 
were  hostile  only  because  they  did  not  know  the 
minds  of  the  white  men,  and  what  their  attitude 
toward  them  would  be,  if  they  were  not  always 
prepared  to  defend  themselves.  Therefore  the  peo- 
ple traveling  on  the  plains  in  trains  amassed  them- 
selves together  for  protection,  and  the  people  at 
Fort  Larned  with  their  soldiers  were  very  much 
wrought  up  over  the  atrocious  murders  and  the 
destruction  of  property  all  along  the  whole  West- 
ern frontier.  In  time  of  war  one  false  step  may 
cause  the  death  of  hundreds.  In  this  case  the  com- 
manding officer  of  the  fort  took  the  precaution  to 
send  out  runners  to  call  the  Indians  together  to 
the  fort,  in  order  to  learn,  if  possible,  the  cause  of 
this  fearful  massacre  and  to  get  their  statement 
concerning  their  action. 

The  two  Indians  who  came  in  verified  the  state- 
ment of  the  ox-driver,  and  declared  that  if  the 
teamster  had  not  killed  their  inoffensive  warrior 
who  only  asked  for  something  to  eat  there  would 
have  been  no  trouble  at  all  from  them. 

In  defense  of  the  Indian  I  will  say  that  the  peo- 
ple in  general  were  all  the  time  seeking  to  abuse 
him.  In  almost  all  instances  where  I  have  read 
of  Indian  troubles  I  have  noticed  that  at  all  times 
it  grew  out  of  the  fact  that  the  whites  invariably 
raised  the  trouble  and  were  always  the  aggressors. 
Nevertheless,  newspaper  reports  and  any  other  re- 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  19 

port  for  that  matter,  laid  the  blame  at  the  door  of 
the  wigwam  of  the  red  man  of  the  forest. 

It  is  my  opinion  that  most  of  the  trouble  on  the 
frontier  was  uncalled  for.  The  white  man  learned 
to  fear  the  Indians  always,  when  there  was  no  at- 
tempt on  the  part  of  the  Indian  to  do  him  harm. 
Many  times  while  I  was  crossing  the  plains  have 
bands  of  from  thirty  to  forty  Indians  or  more  come 
to  us,  catching  up  with  us  or  passing  us  by.  Had 
I  not  understood  them  and  their  intentions  as  well 
as  I  did  we  would  more  than  likely  have  had 
trouble  with  them  or  have  suffered  severe  incon- 
venience. We  never  thought  of  fear  when  they 
were  going  along  the  road,  and  many  times  I  would 
call  them  when  I  would  camp  for  meals  to  come 
and  get  a  cup  of  coffee.  They  would  go  back  with 
us  to  camp.  We  did  not  care  what  their  number 
was,  we  would  always  divide  our  provisions  with 
them.  If  there  were  a  large  number  of  Indians, 
and  our  provisions  were  scarce,  I  would  tell  them 
so,  but  also  tell  them  that  notwithstanding  that 
fact  I  still  had  some  for  them.  Then  if  they  only 
got  a  few  sups  of  coffee  around  and  a  little  piece  of 
bread  they  were  always  profoundly  grateful  and 
satisfied  that  we  had  done  our  best. 

In  order  to  let  them  know  we  were  scarce  of 
bread,  etc.,  I  would  say,  "poka  te  keta  pan;"  in  the 
Mexican  language  that  is  interpreted  "very  little 
bread."  Bread,  in  the  Mexican  or  Indian  language, 
is  "pan,"  and  when  they  understood  they  would 
say  "si,"  which  is  interpreted  "yes."  They  showed 
us  their  appreciation  for  the  little  they  received 
just  as  though  we  had  given  them  a  whole  loaf  of 
bread  apiece. 

If  we  only  had  a  few  cups  of  coffee  and  had 


20  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

seventy  or  eighty  Indian  guests  we  would  give  it 
to  one  of  the  Indians  and  he  would  divide  it  equally 
among  his  number.  He  would  place  the  cup  so  it 
would  contain  an  equal  amount  of  the  coffee.  Then 
one  of  the  Indians  would  get  up  from  the  ground 
(they  always  sit  on  the  ground  grouped  all  about 
us  when  they  ate  with  us)  and  take  the  cups  and 
hand  them  around  to  every  fifth  man,  or  such  a 
one  as  would  make  it  average  to  every  cup  of  cof- 
fee they  had.  The  Indians  would  break  the  bread 
and  give  to  each  one,  according  to  what  his  share 
equally  divided  would  be.  When  they  come  to 
drink  their  coffee  every  Indian  who  had  a  cup 
would  raise  it  to  their  lips  at  once,  take  a  swallow 
of  the  beverage,  then  pass  the  cup  on  to  the  next 
one.  They  did  the  bread  the  same  way.  After 
finishing  their  repast  they  invariably  thanked  us 
profusely  in  their  Indian  style  for  what  they  had 
been  given.  There  were  times  when  I  had  plenty 
of  provisions  to  give  them  all  they  needed  or  re- 
quired to  satisfy  their  hunger.  At  no  time  was 
my  coach  surrounded  with  hostile  intent  without 
departing  from  it  in  friendliness.  At  the  same  time 
I  knew  they  had  some  great  grievances. 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN 


21 


The  First  William  Penn,  in  1670,  Treating  with  the  Indians. 

This  picture  is  placed  in  the  book  for  the  purpose  of  drawing  attention  to  the 
methods  employed  by  the  First  William  Penn  in  connection  with  the  same 
methods  employed  by  the  Second  William  Penn  to  successful  treaty  with  the 
Indians.  His  friendliness  overcame  any  hostilities  which  they  might  have  pre- 
viously had. 


CHAPTER    III. 

Ryus'   Coach   Is    Surrounded   by   Indians,    Their 

Animosities  are  Turned  to  Friendliness, 

Through  Ryus'  Wit  and  Ingenuity — 

"Hail  the  Second  William  Penn." 

At  one  time  in  the  year  of  1864  when  I  arrived 
in  Fort  Larned  on  my  way  from  Kansas  City,  Mis- 
souri, to  Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico,  there  was  a  great 
scare,  and  a  commanding  officer,  Colonel  Ford, 
told  me  that  they  expected  a  raid  on  them  most 
any  time  from  Indians. 

In  July  of  that  year  the  Cheyennes,  Kiowas, 
Arapahoes  and  some  Comanche  and  Hickory 
Apaches  were  camped  a  mile  north  of  Fort  Larned. 
The  commanding  officer  of  the  fort  told  me  he 
could  only  let  me  have  about  thirty  soldiers  for  an 
escort.  I  told  him  that  if  we  should  have  trouble 
with  the  Indians  thirty  soldiers  would  be  just  as 
good  as  a  thousand,  and  that  I  had  rather  take  my 
chances  with  thirty  soldiers  than  more. 

We  left  Fort  Larned  a  little  before  noon  and  ar- 
rived at  Big  Coon  Creek,  twenty-two  miles  from 
Fort  Larned,  where  we  stopped  for  supper  at  about 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  A  lieutenant  of  my 
escort  in  charge  of  the  soldiers  put  out  a  guard. 
While  we  were  eating  supper  the  guards  shot  off 
their  guns  and  came  rushing  into  camp  with  news 
that  a  thousand  or  more  Indians  were  hidden  along 
the  banks  of  Coon  Creek.  The  lieutenant  placed 
double  guard  and  came  out  to  me  and  gravely 
suggested  that  we  go  back  to  Fort  Larned  and  get 
more  soldiers  before  attempting  to  cross  farther 
into  the  Great  Divide. 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  23 

I  told  the  lieutenant  to  take  his  soldiers  and  go 
back  to  Fort  Larned  and  I  would  go  on.  He  asked 
me  why  I  did  not  go  alone  in  the  first  place.  I  told 
him  that  I  needed  him  NOW,  and  he  asked  me 
how  that  was,  I  told  him  that  if  he  would  take  his 
soldiers  and  go  back  to  Fort  Larned  the  Indians 
would  follow  him  and  let  me  alone.  He  said  he 
would  go  with  me.  We  finished  our  dinner  and  I 
went  to  the  soldiers'  wagons  and  got  two  big  arm- 
fuls  of  bread,  about  sixty  pounds  of  bacon  and  a 
large  bucket  of  coffee.  I  took  them  down  to  our 
camp,  spread  a  newspaper  upon  the  ground,  laid 
the  bacon,  bread  and  coffee  on  the  spread,  placed 
a  handful  of  matches  near  the  bread,  then  went  to 
our  own  mess  and  took  several  cans  of  coffee  and 
bread  from  it,  left  them  one  of  our  buckets  and  an 
extra  coffee  pot  that  I  carried  with  me,  and  got  a 
large  camp  kettle  from  the  soldiers  and  left  it  for 
the  Indians.  Then  I  gathered  a  few  more  buffalo 
chips  and  placed  on  the  fire  to  keep  it  from  going 
out,  and  my  plan  was  complete. 

I  told  the  lieutenant  to  take  his  soldiers  and 
drive  on  over  the  hill  just  out  of  sight  and  to  stop 
there.  I  sent  one  of  my  coaches  ahead  and  all  of 
my  passengers  got  into  that  coach.  I  told  my 
driver  to  go  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  stop  the 
mules  there,  but  to  keep  in  sight  of  me.  I  had  my 
coach  driven  up  the  road  about  100  yards,  and  on 
looking  up  the  creek  I  saw  one  Indian  in  war  paint 
and  feathers  looking  around  the  bluff  at  me.  That 
was  the  only  one  of  their  band  I  could  see,  so  I  got 
up  on  top  of  my  coach  and  motioned  for  him  to 
come  to  me. 

Two  Indians  came  up  to  within  100  feet  of  me, 
stopped  and  looked  all  around.  (Indians  are  very 


24 


THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 


"Billy  of  the  Stage  Coach,"  Treating  with  the  Indians. 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  25 

cautious  that  they  do  not  get  caught  in  a  trap). 
They  rode  up  closer,  looking  intently  at  me  all  the 
time  and  talking  to  each  other.  I  motioned  with 
both  hands  while  I  was  standing  on  top  of  the 
coach  to  come  and  I  made  them  understand  that 
I  was  friendly.  They  answered  by  Indian  signs, 
then  gave  a  big  yell, — an  Indian  whoop — that  liked 
to  have  froze  the  blood  in  the  veins  of  the  passen- 
gers. They  gave  this  whoop  three  times,  and  in 
an  instant,  it  seemed  to  me,  five  or  six  hundred 
Indians  came  down  and  formed  in  a  line  about 
the  coach  on  top  of  which  I  stood.  I  bowed  to 
them  and  pointed  to  the  supper  I  had  prepared  for 
them.  "They  came,  they  saw,  and  were  con- 
quered." They  bowed  to  me  in  their  Indian  lan- 
guage and  signs  expressing  their  gratitude  for  this 
hospitality.  One  old  Indian  came  forward,  laid 
his  bow  and  arrow  and  spears  upon  the  ground 
(the  Indian  sign  of  peace)  and  motioned  for  me 
to  come  and  eat  with  them.  I  motioned  to  them 
that  I  must  go  on,  so  they  said  good-bye.  When 
I  got  to  the  top  of  the  hill  I  had  my  coach  brought 
to  a  standstill.  I  slapped  my  hands  together  and 
again  motioned  them  good-bye.  All  at  once  these 
Indians  raised  their  hands  and  bade  me  good-bye, 
saluting  me.  These  Indians  were  fierce  looking 
creatures  in  their  war-paint  and  with  their  spears, 
which  they  do  not  carry  unless  they  expect  trouble. 
That  was  the  last  time  I  saw  those  Indians  on  that 
trip. 

We  had  no  other  excitement  on  our  way  to  Fort 
Lyons,  unless  the  encounter  with  the  buffalo  herds 
could  be  so  called.  A  large  herd  of  buffalo  were 
grazing  on  the  plains  and  was  not  an  unusual  sight 
for  the  drivers  and  me.  However,  when  we  came 


26  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

in  sight  of  them  one  passenger  cried  out,  "Stop 
the  coach,  stop  the  coach;  see,  there  are  a  thousand 
buffalo  standing  belly  deep  in  the  lake."  "Oh," 
I  said,  "you  do  not  see  any  water — that  isn't  a 
lake."  "What?"  one  said,  "do  our  eyes  really  de- 
ceive us  out  here  on  these  infernal  plains?  If  it  is 
not  water  and  a  lake  those  buffalo  are  standing  in, 
what  in  the  name  of  sense  is  it?"  I  told  them  that 
what  they  saw  was  nothing  more  than  merely  buf- 
falo at  a  distance  on  the  plain ;  that  what  they  saw 
that  resembled  water  was  simply  an  optical  illu- 
sion, called  the  "mirage."  Webster  describes  the 
word  as  follows :  "An  optical  illusion  arising  from 
an  unequal  refraction  in  the  lower  strata  of  the  at- 
mosphere and  causing  remote  objects  to  be  seen 
double,  as  if  reflected  in  a  mirror,  or  to  appear  as 
if  suspended  in  the  air.  It  is  frequently  seen  in  the 
deserts,  presenting  the  appearance  of  water.  The 
Fata  Morgana  and  Looming  are  species  of  mirage." 
The  mirage  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  scenes  I 
ever  beheld  and  can  only  be  seen  on  the  plains  or 
in  deserts  in  its  complete  beauty.  It  has  to  be  seen 
to  be  appreciated.  It  makes  a  buffalo  look  like  it 
had  two  tails.  Everything  looks  double. 

We  had  not  much  sooner  spied  the  buffalo  than 
they  spied  us  and  they  started  on  the  run  across 
the  road  ahead  of  us.  We  were  compelled  to  wait 
a  half  an  hour  until  they  had  crossed  the  road. 
We  passed  ox  trains  every  day  or  so  going  to  and 
from  New  Mexico.  In  a  few  days  we  were  in  Fort 
Lyon,  where  we  separated  from  the  passengers, 
and  we  drivers  would  take  the  incoming  coach  and 
its  passengers  and  drive  back  along  the  Long 
Route. 


CHAPTER   IV. 
The  Chivington  Massacre. 

There  was  a  station  on  the  Union  Pacific  Road 
called  Kit  Carson;  near  this  station  is  a  place  called 
Sand  Creek.  It  was  at  the  latter  named  place 
where  Major  John  L.  Chivington  made  his  bloody 
raid. 

In  the  summer  of  1864  the  combined  Indian  tribe 
went  on  the  warpath.  They  were  camped  north 
of  Fort  Larned,  garrisoned  with  Kansas  troops 
and  a  section  of  a  Wisconsin  battery  in  charge  of 
Lieutenant  Croker,  and  Captain  Ried  was  the  com- 
manding officer.  The  Indians  first  commenced 
war  at  Fort  Larned  and  ran  off  some  horses,  beef 
cattle  and  some  milch  cows  that  were  the  property 
of  James  Brice. 

At  the  time  Chivington  made  this  raid  there  was 
camped  at  Sand  Creek  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
lodges  of  women,  children  and  a  few  decrepit  In- 
dians. This  was  one  of  the  most  brutal  massacres 
a  white  man  was  ever  known  to  have  commanded. 
With  some  sixty  soldiers  he  said  he  would  go  and 
"clean  'em  up."  He  got  there  at  daybreak  and  be- 
gan to  fire  on  the  Indians  and  killed  a  great  many 
women  and  children.  He  burned  several  lodges, 
confiscated  their  provisions,  blankets  and  other 
supplies.  The  Indian  braves  who  were  able  to 
fight  had  some  poisoned  arrows  which  they  used 
advantageously.  Every  soldier  they  hit  was  either 
seriously  injured  or  killed.  Up  in  the  day  the  In- 
dians got  reinforcements  and  gave  Chivington's 
raiders  quite  a  chase.  These  Indians  were  left  en- 


28  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

tirely  destitute,  for  Chivington  had  seized  all  the 
supplies  and  either  loaded  them  into  his  wagons 
or  destroyed  them  by  fire.  For  that  reason  the 
surviving  Indians  commenced  depredations  on  the 
stock  and  other  property  of  settlers  at  Fort  Lamed. 

It  is  said,  but  as  to  the  truthfulness  of  the  asser- 
tion I  do  not  vouch,  for  it  did  not  happen  under 
my  personal  knowledge — that  a  man  by  the  name 
of  McGee,  who  was  a  teamster  on  a  train  loaded 
with  flour  for  the  Government,  was  captured  not 
far  from  there  and  was  scalped  and  left  for  dead; 
that  the  Eastern  mail  happening  to  come  along 
shortly  after,  found  the  body  and  placed  it  upon 
the  boot  of  the  coach;  that  before  arriving  at  Fort 
Larned  they  found  that  instead  of  carrying  a 
corpse,  as  it  was  at  first  supposed,  they  carried 
a  living  man.  This  man  was  taken  to  a  hospital 
and  got  well.  He  raised  a  family  of  children  and 
his  sons,  some  of  them  live  in  or  around  Independ- 
ence, Missouri.  This  man,  Mr.  McGee,  is  said  to 
be  the  only  scalped  man  in  the  United  States  who 
lived  after  being  scalped. 

After  this  brutal  crime  against  the  Indians, 
trouble  commenced  on  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  and  the 
sight  of  a  "pale  face"  brought  memories  of  the  as- 
sassination of  their  tribe  by  Chivington  and  his 
raiders. 

At  this  Indian  lodge  where  the  Chivington  mas- 
sacre occurred  lived  the  father-in-law  of  John 
Powers.  He  was  known  the  plains  over  as  a  peace- 
able old  Indian  (Old  One  Eye),  the  chief  of  the 
Cheyennes,  but  his  "light  was  put  out"  during  this 
desperate  fight  with  Chivington. 

Right  here  I  will  give  an  account  of  the  marriage 
of  John  Powers  to  the  daughter  of  "Old  One  Eye." 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  29 

Mr.  Powers  had  crossed  the  plains  several  times 
as  wagon-boss  for  Colonel  Charles  Bent,  who  was 
the  builder  of  Bent's  Fort,  also  the  new  fort  at  Fort 
Lyons.  He  was  also  wagon  boss  for  Mr.  Winsor, 
the  settler  at  Fort  Lyon  at  the  time  of  his  marriage 
to  the  daughter  of  the  old  chief. 

Mr.  Powers'  mother,  Mrs.  Fogel,  and  his  step- 
father received  the  news  of  Powers'  marriage  with 
many  misgivings  and  rebuked  him  severely  for 
having  made  such  a  choice,  finally  vowing  that 
they  disowned  him  and  never  wanted  to  see  him 
again.  With  a  finality  not  at  all  disconsolate  John 
Powers  set  about  to  polish  his  Indian  wife  for  the 
polite  society  of  his  mother,  so  he  sent  her  to 
school,  chaperoned  by  Miss  Mollie  Bent. 

At  the  school  at  West  Port  this  Indian  girl  soon 
excelled  and  under  the  careful  management  of  Miss 
Bent  the  wife  of  John  Powers  soon  became  an  ex- 
pert in  domestic  science.  But  Powers,  getting  im- 
patient for  a  meeting  between  his  mother  and  wife, 
asked  Mollie  Bent  to  arrange  it.  So  accordingly 
Miss  Mollie  visited  at  the  home  of  her  friends,  the 
Fogels,  and  during  the  gossip  Miss  Bent  casually 
remarked  to  Mrs.  Fogel  that  she  had  a  most 
charming  friend,  an  Indian  maid,  over  at  the 
school  whom  she  would  like  to  introduce  to  her. 

When  Mrs.  Fogel  insisted  upon  her  coming  over 
the  following  Saturday,  bringing  with  her  her 
friend,  Mollie  Bent's  heart  was  little  less  glad  than 
John  Powers. 

At  last  the  eventful  day  had  arrived.  Mollie, 
accompanied  with  John's  "Indian  squaw,"  went  to 
the  home  of  Mrs.  Fogel.  The  high-spiritedness  of 
the  Indian  maid  soon  captivated  Mrs.  Fogel.  After 
they  had  eaten  supper  Mrs.  Fogel  was  ordered  to 


30  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

go  to  the  front  porch  and  entertain  her  other  vis- 
itor, Miss  Mollie  Bent,  while  she  (Mrs.  John  Pow- 
ers) did  up  the  kitchen  work  and  cleared  up  the 
dining  room.  Mrs.  Fogel  did  so  with  reluctance, 
wondering  greatly  just  how  a  real  Indian  would 
do  up  her  greatly  "civilized"  kitchen  work.  But 
she  did  not  wonder  long,  for  very  soon,  indeed, 
the  daughter  of  "Old  One  Eye"  came  to  inquire 
of  her  host  where  to  place  the  dishes  and  how  to 
arrange  the  dining  room. 

Mrs.  Fogel  was  as  pleased  as  she  was  surprised 
at  the  neatness  and  despatch  with  which  the  work 
had  been  done  and  told  her  daughter-in-law  so, 
little  knowing  that  she  was  dealing  with  her  own 
son's  wife.  Each  Saturday  after  this  John  Pow- 
ers' wife  visited  at  the  home  of  her  mother-in-law 
and  learned  many  things  from  Mrs.  Fogel  that 
only  endeared  her  more  to  the  Fogel  family. 
Swiftness  and  despatch  is  one  of  the  Indian  char- 
acteristics. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1863  Colonel  Bent  sold 
John  Powers  his  train  of  nine  wagons  for  $10,000. 
Powers  then  started  to  the  states  in  February  to 
load  up.  He  loaded  with  corn  to  be  taken  to  Fort 
Union,  New  Mexico,  for  the  Government.  With' 
his  two  original  wagons  his  trip  netted  him  $10,000. 
He  immediately  returned  to  the  states  to  make  his 
second  trip  and  to  visit  his  wife  and  Miss  Mollie 
Bent  in  Kansas  City,  Missouri.  His  mother  did 
not  know  he  was  there.  When  he  arrived  in  Kan- 
sas City  from  his  second  trip  he  decided  to  put  his 
"spurs"  on,  so  to  speak,  so  he  bought  him  a  fine 
carriage,  a  team  of  prancing  horses,  and  went  like 
a  "Prince  of  Plenty"  to  the  home  of  his  mother. 

It  had  already  been  planned  that  Hiawatha  One 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  31 

Eye  Powers,  that  is,  Mrs.  John  Powers,  would  be 
ensconced  at  the  home  of  Mrs.  Fogel,  his  mother. 
Mollie  Bent  was  there,  and  girl  like,  was  delighted 
over  the  romance  being  enacted  under  that  roof. 
The  heart  of  the  Indian  maid  was  beating  a  happy 
tattoo  under  her  civilian  dress. 

A  cloud  of  dust  up  the  road  announced  that  John 
was  now  near  the  parental  roost.  Mrs.  Fogel  with 
her  motherly  solicitude  was  awaiting  him  with 
happy  tears  dimming  her  eyes.  She  took  in  with 
all  a  mother's  fondness  his  high-stepping  prancers, 
his  prosperous  appearance,  last  but  not  least  the 
entire  absence  of  the  Indian  daughter-in-law. 

When  the  greeting  of  mother  and  son  was  over' 
they  went  into  the  house  where  Mrs.  Fogel  intro- 
duced her  Indian  friend,  remarking  as  she  did  so 
that  she  was  a  rare  and  exquisite  wild  flower  of 
the  plains.  Consternation  and  surprise  chased 
themselves  over  Mrs.  Fogel's  features  when  she, 
turning,  beheld  her  protege  pressed  upon  her  son's 
breast.  With  eyes  ablaze  with  happy  lights  he 
led  her  to  his  mother,  saying,  "Mother,  I  now  in- 
troduce you  to  my  wife." 

When  Mrs.  Fogel  had  recovered  from  the  sur- 
prise which  accompanied  the  shock  of  this  disclo- 
ure  she  seized  the  girl  in  her  motherly  arms,  and 
if  ever  a  girl  got  a  "hugging"  Hiawatha  got  one 
from  an  ACTUAL  mother-in-law. 

Mollie  Bent  was  hysterical,  laughing  and  crying 
at  the  same  time. 

When  John  Powers  had  loaded  his  train  he  took 
back  with  him  his  wife  and  her  friend,  Miss  Mollie 
Bent,  as  far  as  Fort  Lyon.  Fifteen  years  after  this 
incident  I  met  John  Powers  in  Topeka,  Kansas. 
He  looked  at  me  a  long  time  and  I  returned  his 


32  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

stare.  Finally  he  said,  "Ho,  there,  ain't  your  name 
Billy,  the  boy  who  used  to  get  along  with  the  In- 
dians so  well,  cuss  your  soul?"  I  told  him  that  I 
was,  and  he  said,  "I'm  right  glad  to  see  you  again, 
Billy."  I  asked  him  if  he  wasn't  John  Powers,  and 
he  told  me  he  was.  Then  I  asked  him  his  business 
in  Topeka,  and  he  told  me  he  had  just  brought  his 
two  daughters  to  Bethany  College  at  Topeka, 
Kansas. 

Mr.  Powers  was  at  that  time  badly  afflicted  with 
cancer  of  the  tongue,  and  he  told  me  that  he  hadn't 
long  to  live.  He  also  told  me  that  he  had  bought 
the  Old  Arcadia  Indian  Camp  on  the  Picketwaire 
River  (Picketwaire  means  River  of  Lost  Souls  or 
Purgatory  to  the  Indians).  The  camp  is  between 
Fort  Lyons  and  Bent's  Old  Fort  on  the  opposite 
of  the  river.  Some  of  the  land  at  that  time  was 
rated  at  $50  per  acre  and  is  now,  most  of  it,  worth 
$100  per  acre.  His  rating  at  the  time  of  death  in 
Dun  &  Bradstreet's  Commercial  Report  was  four 
million  dollars.  That  was  the  last  time  I  ever  saw 
him. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Barnum,  Veil  and  Vickeroy  Go  a  Journeying  With 

Barlow  and  Sanderson. — Vickeroy  Is 

Branded  "U.  S.  M." 

In  the  fall  of  1863  I  quit  the  Long  Route  and 
went  up  on  what  is  known  as  the  Denver  Branch, 
driving  from  Bent's  Old  Fort,  Colorado,  to  Boon- 
ville,  Colorado.  On  my  last  drive  across  the  Long 
Route  I  had  a  party  of  "dead  heads."  They  were 
the  "bosses" — owners  of  the  Stage  Coach  Com- 
pany Line.  That  is,  Barnum,  Veil  and  Vickeroy 
were,  and  Barlow  and  Sanderson  were  going  over 
the  trip  with  these  fellows  with  a  view  of  buying 
out  the  interest  of  Vickeroy.  There  were  three 
more  passengers,  all  on  fun  intent. 

All  of  these  fellows  were,  we  will  call  it  for  lack 
of  a  better  word,  "on  a  toot"  and  having  lots  of 
fun.  They  had  poked  so  much  fun  at  Vickeroy 
that  they  finally  got  the  best  of  him.  Vickeroy 
enlisted  the  three  passengers  on  his  side  and 
sought  an  opportunity  to  "turn  the  tables,"  so  they 
made  it  up  to  brand  Barlow  and  Sanderson  with 
the  branding  iron  that  was  used  to  brand  the  com- 
pany's mules.  This  iron  had  the  letters  U.  S.  M. 
(United  States  Mail)  on  it.  When  I  placed  the 
frying  pan  on  the  fire  and  it  commenced  to  "siz,J> 
Vickeroy  and  two  of  the  passengers  stood  Barlow 
on  his  head  and  told  him  they  were  going  to  use 
the  branding  iron.  Barlow  thought  the  branding 
iron  was  surely  going  to  be  used  upon  the  seat  of 
his  pants,  but  the  accommodating  Vickeroy  had 


34  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

the  frying  pan  used  instead.  He  gave  the  victim 
three  taps  on  the  seat  of  his  pants  with  the  hot 
frying  pan,  one  tap  for  "U,"  one  for  "S"  and  the 
other  for  "M,"  then  slapped  him  soundly  and  said, 
"Go,  Mr.  Mule,  when  the  Indians  find  you  they 
will  take  you  to  the  station  because  your  brand 
shows  you  to  be  the  "United  States  Male."  Bar- 
low's howls  and  Vickeroy's  laughter  made  those 
old  plains  resound  with  noises  which  may  have 
caused  the  spooks  to  walk  that  night.  They  were 
having  lots  of  fun  about  the  "branded  'incoming' 
mule,"  or  the  new  member  of  the  company  that 
might  be.  All  went  smoothly  a  few  days,  but 
Vickeroy  would  occasionally  ask  us  how  long  they 
thought  it  would  take  a  brand  to  wear  off  so  peo 
pie  could  not  know  their  "mule." 

"Every  dog  has  its  day,"  and  the  day  for  Bar- 
low's revenge  was  slowly  but  surely  coming.  The 
second  day  after  the  episode  described  I  had  the 
frying  pan  over  the  red  hot  coals  fairly  sizzling 
with  a  white  heat  ready  to  place  my  buffalo  steak 
onto  it,  but  Barlow  told  me  to  "wait  a  minute"  and 
he  said  he  "would  attend  to  that  skillet."  I  saw 
something  was  in  the  air,  so  I  took  a  back  seat  and 
awaited  events. 

About  the  time  Vickeroy  was  unraveling  some 
big  yarn,  all  unconscious  of  the  designs  Barlow 
had  upon  him,  Veil  and  Sanderson  grabbed  him 
and  had  quite  a  tussle  with  him  to  get  him  in  a 
position  to  apply  the  branding  iron.  The  imprint 
left  on  the  seat  of  Vickeroy's  pants  was  not  U.  S. 
M.  this  time,  it  was  burned  and  scorched  flesh, 
for  lo,  the  tussle  with  his  determined  tormentors 
had  lasted  too  long, — the  frying  pan  had  gotten 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  35 

too  hot  for  good  branding  purposes,  and  for  the 
comfort  of  the  branded  one's  hams. 

When  Mr.  Barlow  saw  the  condition  of  Mr. 
Vickeroy's  clothing,  he  was  full  of  apologies,  but 
the  passengers  would  hear  nothing  of  them,  saying 
that  it  was  always  bad  for  unruly  mules  when  they 
got  to  kicking,  and  Vickeroy  would  have  to  swal- 
low his  chagrin.  The  windup  was  a  new  "seat" 
installed  and  a  cushion  for  the  "kicking  mule." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Colonel    Boone    Gets    Judge    Wright's    Enmity. 

Lincoln  Appoints  Col.  A.  G.  Boone  Indian 

Agent.     Arrangements  Are  Made  With 

Commissioners  For  Indian  Annuities. 

Mr.    Haynes    Sends   Troops    to 

Burn    Out    Colonel    Boone. 

Driving  from  Bent's  Old  Fort  to  Boonville, 
Colorado,  was  usually  a  pleasant  drive  for  me. 
After  I  quit  the  Long  Route  and  took  up  the  Den- 
ver Branch,  I  made  my  home  with  Colonel  A.  G. 
Boone,  who  is  a  great  great  grandson  of  the  im- 
mortal Daniel  Boone. 

President  Lincoln  was  inaugurated  in  March, 
1860,  he  saw  Major  Filmore  of  Denver,  Colorado, 
paymaster  of  the  army,  who  was  in  Washington 
during  the  last  of  March  after  the  inauguration. 
He  asked  him  if  he  knew  of  a  good  man,  capable 
of  going  among  the  Indians  to  make  treaties  with 
them,  so  that  transportation  could  cross  the  plains 
without  escorts.  Major  Filmore  told  the  Presi- 
dent that  he  knew  Colonel  A.  G.  Boone  to  be  a 
fearless  man,  that  he  was  not  only  fearless,  com- 
petent and  capable,  but  that  no  other  man  could 
do  the  work  as  efficiently  as  Colonel  Boone,  be- 
cause the  Indians  were  so  friendly  disposed  to- 
ward him.  Lincoln  said:  "Major,  I  wish  you  would 
see  this  Colonel  for  me,  immediately.  Give  him 
funds  to  come  to  Washington  at  once,  for  I  want 
to  have  a  consultation  with  him  on  this  "Indian 
question." 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  37 

Colonel  Boone  went  to  Washington,  as  ar- 
ranged, and  gave  President  Lincoln  his  views  on 
the  subject  under  consideration.  Colonel  Boone, 
in  company  with  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  went  to  the  Board  of  the  Indian  Commis- 
sioners. After  talking  over  the  various  ways  of 
handling  Indians,  and  giving  his  opinion  of  the 
different  ways  to  accomplish  a  safer  journey 
across  the  plains  without  encountering  hostilities 
from  Indians — he  asked  the  Commissioners,  and 
President,  what  it  was  they  particularly  desired 
him  to  do?  They  told  him  that  they  had  sent 
for  him  to  find  out  from  him  what  he  would  do. 
They  told  him  they  wanted  Kim  to  sketch  out  how 
he  would  first  proceed  to  such  a  task.  "Well," 
Colonel  Boone  replied,  "do  you  want  to  give  the 
Indians  any  annuities,  or  what  would  be  called 
annuities — quarterly  annuities  of  clothing,  pro- 
visions, etc.,  and  if  so,  how  much,  and  so  on?" 
The  commissioners  made  a  rating.  After  consid- 
erable figuring,  submitted  their  figures  to  Boone's 
consideration.  Upon  looking  the  figures  over, 
Boone  told  them  to  cut  those  figures  half  in  two. 
They  thought  they  had  figured  as  closely  as 
Boone  would  think  expedient,  and  rather  feared 
the  amount  they  had  first  allowed  each  one  was 
too  small.  Colonel  Boone  said:  "If  you  figure 
the  weight  of  the  product  you  send  them,  you  will 
find  it  will  take  a  good  many  trains  to  transport 
it  yearly."  Said  he:  "Not  only  cut  it  in  two, 
gentlemen,  but  cut  it  into  eighths.  Then  perhaps 
you  can  be  sure  to  keep  your  agreement  with 
them." 

As  to  agreements,  Indians  are  still,  and  have 


38  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

always  been  most  particular  about  living  up  to 
them.  Personally,  I  would  not  make  an  agree- 
ment with  an  Indian,  however  trivial,  that  I  did 
not  mean  to  carry  out  to  the  letter.  They  have 
always  been  with  me  most  careful  to  comply  with 
the  terms  of  their  contracts. 

Colonel  Boone  was  made  Indian  Agent,  but 
President  Lincoln  told  Colonel  Boone  that  he 
could  not  furnish  him  very  many  soldiers  as  escort 
on  account  of  the  war.  Mr.  Boone  told  him  he 
did  not  want  an  army,  but  that  he  did  want  about 
three  ambulances  and  the  privilege  of  selecting 
his  own  men  to  go  with  him. 

Arrangements  were  then  made  to  forward  to 
Fort  Lyon  blankets,  beads,  Indian  trinkets,  flour, 
sugar,  coffee  and  such  other  articles  of  usefulness 
as  is  generally  found  in  settlement  stores  or  com- 
missaries. When  Colonel  Boone  told  President 
Lincoln  that  he  did  not  care  for  an  army  of 
soldiers  for  escort,  the  President  seemed  aston- 
ished, and  asked  him  how  he  dared  go  down  the 
Arkansas  River  without  a  good  escort.  Boone 
told  him  that  it  was  his  idea  that  he  would  be 
safer  with  three  men,  the  ones  he  selected  to  go 
with  him,  viz. :  Tom  Boggs,  Colonel  Saint  Vraine, 
Major  Filmore  and  Colonel  Bent  than  he  would 
be  with  a  thousand  soldiers. 

The  first  thing  Boone  did  was  to  send  out  run- 
ners to  have  the  Indians  come  in  to  Big  Timbers, 
on  the  Arkansas  River,  where  Fort  Lyon  is  now 
located.  There  Colonel  Boone  began  his  nego- 
tiations with  the  Indians  that  opened  up  the 
Santa  Fe  Trail  to  such  an  extent  that  traveling 
was  less  dangerous  and  expensive. 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  39 

In  the  second  place,  Colonel  Boone  and  his 
party  proceeded  to  Fort  Lyon  and  at  once  began 
negotiations  with  the  Indians  as  per  his  contract 
with  the  Indian  Commissioners  and  President 
Abraham  Lincoln. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  place  appointed  where 
the  agency  was  to  be  established,  there  were 
camped  about  thirty  thousand  Indians  with  their 
Indian  provisions,  buffalo  meat,  venison,  antelope 
bear  and  other  wild  meats,  and  John  Smith  and 
Dick  Curtis,  who  were  the  great  Indian  interpret- 
ers for  all  the  tribes.  The  Comanches,  Kiowas. 
Cheyennes,  Sioux,  Arapahoes,  Acaddas,  and  other 
tribes,  with  Colonel  Boone,  arrived  at  a  complete 
understanding,  and  for  about  two  years  the  Indi- 
ans were  kindly  disposed  toward  the  Whites,  or  :•& 
long  as  Colonel  Boone's  administration  as  Indian 
Agent  existed.  Any  one  then  could  cross  the 
plains  without  fear  of  molestation  from  the 
Indians. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
Colonel  Boone  Acquires  Squire  Wright's  Enmity. 

In  1861,  however,  Judge  Wright  of  Indiana,  a 
member  of  Congress  during  Boone's  administra- 
tion as  Indian  Agent,  brought  his  dissipated  son 
to  Colonel  Boone's.  Colonel  Boone  told  the  Con- 
gressman to  leave  him  with  him  and  he  could  clerk 
in  the  Government  store  and  issue  the  Indian 
annuities. 

This  boy  soon  became  a  very  efficient  clerk,  quit 
his  drinking,  and  under  Colonel  Boone's  persua- 
sion, developed  into  an  honorable  and  upright 
citizen  of  the  United  States. 

When  congress  adjourned,  Congressman 
Wright  came  again  to  the  Indian  Agency  at  Fort 
Lyons  where  he  had  left  his  son  with  Colonel 
Boone.  Finding  this  son  so  changed,  so  assidi- 
ous  to  business,  so  positive  in  manner,  so  thor- 
oughly free,  as  it  seemed  from  the  follies  of 
his  younger  days — follies  that  had  warped  all  his 
best  natures — due,  as  Judge  Wright  was  com- 
pelled to  confess,  to  the  timely  efforts  of  Colonel 
Boone,  there  sprang  into  the  breast  of  Judge 
Wright  an  unquenchable  flame  of  jealousy.  What 
right  had  Colonel  Boone  to  hold  such  an  influence 
over  this  boy,  the  pampered  and  humored  dissipate 
of  this  Congressman  from  Indiana,  when  his  own 
commands,  and  his  mother's  prayers  had  held 
no  such  influence? 

It  was  with  sadness  that  Judge  Wright  remem- 
bered the  weak  lad  he  had  left  on  Colonel  Boone's 


THE   SECOND    WILLIAM    PENN  41 

hands,  a  victim  of  a  father's  lack  of  training,  and 
found  here,  instead,  the  same  lad,  but  with  much 
of  the  weakness  erased,  a  man  now,  with  an  ambi- 
tion to  do  and  to  be. 

At  sight  of  this  miracle  wrought  by  the  clever- 
ness of  Colonel  Boone,  Judge  Wright  rebelled. 
There  entered  his  heart,  a  subtle  fiend,  a  poisoned 
arrow,  inspired  by  the  rescuer  of  his  son,  good, 
brave,  Colonel  Boone.  Had  not  this  stranger 
entered  the  heart  of  his  boy  and  opened  up  the 
deep  wells  of  his  intellect,  buoyed  up  a  hope  within 
his  heart  that  goodness  was  greatness,  and  opened 
his  eyes  to  the  pitfalls  into  which  he  would  event- 
ually fall,  if  he  kept  on  the  way  he  was  going? 
In  fact,  Colonel  Boone  had  sounded  the  message 
of  salvation,  and  Wright,  Jr.,  had  accepted  its 
graces,  and  before  his  father  stood  a  righteous 
transformation,  to  the  honor  and  glory  of  Colonel 
A.  G.  Boone,  the  tried  and  true  friend  of  the 
Indian. 

Again  Judge  Wright  feels  the  sting  of  the  ser- 
pent. He  implored  his  son  to  return  to  his  paren- 
tal roof,  but  this  the  boy  declined  to  do,  so  Judge 
Wright  went  at  once  to  Colonel  Boone  and  with 
many  unjust  and  unscrupulous  epithets  accused 
him  of  having  alienated  the  affections  of  his  son. 
Colonel  Boone  had  but  to  hear  him  out  and  bare 
his  shoulders  for  such  other  blows  which  Judge 
Wright  sought  to  pelter  him,  and  we  will  hear 
with  what  blow  he  was  driven  from  his  post  as 
Indian  Agent. 

***** 

At  the  next  session  of  congress,  Congressmao 
Wright  sought  to  deal  his  death  blow  to  Colonel 


42  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

Boone,  and  to  thus  avenge  the  disloyalty  of  his 
son  to  his  father,  at  no  matter  what  cost  to  his 
own  honor  and  integrity.  This  blow  he  dealt  the 
rescuer  of  his  son,  from  shame  and  disgrace,  and 
who  but  for  Colonel  Boone  might  never  have  suc- 
ceeded in  being  sober  long  enough  to  sell  a  pound 
of  bacon.  In  Congress  Judge  Wright  accused 
Colonel  Boone  of  disloyalty  toward  the  Govern- 
ment, declared  that  he  was  a  secessionest,  and  that 
he  was  robbing  the  Indians,  etc.,  and  so  succeeded 
in  having  him  removed.  To  this  act  might  fitly 
be  applied  the  old  adage:  "Save  a  man  from 
drowning  and  he  will  arise  to  cut  off  your  head." 
After  Colonel  Boone  was  relieved  by  the  new 
agent,  Mr.  Macauley,  Majors  Waddell  and  Russell 
gave  Colonel  Boone  a  large  ranch  on  the  Arkansas 
River,  about  fifteen  miles  East  of  Pueblo,  Colo- 
rado, afterwards  known  as  Boonville.  Waddell 
and  Russell  were  the  great  government  freight 
contractors  across  the  plains.  This  ranch  consist- 
ed of  1,400  acres  of  good  land,  fenced  and  cross 
fenced,  having  several  fine  buildings  thereon,  and 
otherwise  well  improved. 

In  the  fall  of  1863,  about  fifty  influential 
Indians  of  the  various  tribes,  visited  at  the  home 
of  Colonel  Boone  and  begged  him  to  return  and 
be  their  agent,  stating  that  an  uprising  was  immi- 
nent. Colonel  Boone  told  the  Chief  that  the 
President  of  the  United  States  had  ejected  him 
and  that  the  President  would  not  let  him  do  the 
thing  they  asked  him.  Then  the  Indians  offered 
to  sell  their  ponies  to  raise  the  money  for  him  to 
go  to  Washington  to  intercede  with  the  "Great 
Father,"  to  tell  him  of  the  "doin's"  of  their  new 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  43 

agent,  and  to  get  reinstated  himself.  When  Boone 
told  them  that  it  was  impossible,  and  for  them 
to  go  back  and  trust  to  the  agent  to  do  the  right 
thing,  they  were  greatly  disappointed. 

Soon  after  Colonel  Boone  had  installed  himself 
in  his  new  home  on  the  Arkansas  River,  he  be- 
came the  innocent  victim  of  another  man's  wrath. 
A  certain  Mr.  Haynes  was  keeping  the  Stage 
Station  and  was  not  giving  satisfaction  to  the 
company,  inasmuch  as  the  mules  seemed  to  be 
lacking  the  care  and  attention  the  company 
thought  due  them.  The  corn  sent  by  the  com- 
pany (government)  to  feed  the  mules  did  not  find 
its  way  to  the  mule  troughs.  So  the  Stage  Com- 
pany began  to  negotiate  with  Colonel  Boone  to 
take  the  station,  and  he  took  it. 

This  arrangement  angered  Mr.  Haynes,  and  he 
reported  to  a  Union  Soldier  that  Colonel  Boone 
was  a  rebel  of  the  deepest  dye,  and  further  said 
that  he  had  a  company  of  Texas  Rangers  hidden, 
and  intended  to  "clean  out  the  country."  The 
Lieutenant  to  whom  this  deliberate  falsehood  was 
told,  sent  fifteen  soldiers  to  the  home  of  A.  G. 
Boone  to  confiscate  his  property  and  to  burn  him 
out  if  they  found  indications  that  the  report  was 
true. 

Mr.  Boone's  residence  was  seven  miles  from 
Haynes'  and  the  soldiers  reached  Boone's  place 
about  1 :30  o'clock  P.  M.  and  their  horses  looked, 
to  a  casual  observer,  like  they  had  been  ridden 
fifty  miles.  They  were  all  covered  with  dust 
which  the  crafty  soldiers  had  thrown  upon  them 
and  were  flecked  with  sweat.  One  soldier  went 


44  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

forward  and  asked  politely  to  be  given  something 
to  eat. 

Colonel  Boone  who  was  a  whole-hearted,  "hail 
fellow  well  met"  sort  of  a  man,  invited  them  to 
come  in  and  to  put  their  horses  in  the  barn  and  to 
give  them  one  really  good  feed,  remarking  at  the 
same  time  that  they  had  better  remove  their  sad- 
dles and  allow  the  horses  to  cool  off. 

One  soldier,  without  a  first  thought,  began  to 
throw  his  saddle  off,  but  was  quickly  prevented 
by  a  quicker  witted  soldier,  but  the  action  was 
not  quick  enough.  Colonel  Boone  had  observed 
without  appearing  to  do  so,  the  normal  condition 
of  the  back  of  the  horse,  and  something  had  flown 
to  his  mind,  that  "all  was  not  right  on  the 
Wabash,"  and  he  concluded  to  keep  cool.  Some- 
thing told  him  that  they  were  agents  of  Mr. 
Haynes,  and  were  on  mischief  bent. 

After  caring  well  for  the  horses,  the  soldiers 
were  invited  to  the  house  where  they  went  to  the 
back  porch  and  refreshed  themselves  with  clean 
cistern  water  and  fresh  towels.  While  they  were 
getting  "slicked  up"  as  some  of  the  soldiers  jok- 
ingly called  their  face  wash,  Colonel  Boone  called 
the  old  negro  woman  to  bring  a  pitcher  of  whiskey, 
glasses,  sugar,  nutmeg,  and  eggs,  and  make  them 
a  rich  toddy.  When  this  was  done,  Colonel 
Boone  with  a  lavish  hand  distributed  it  generously 
among  his  guests,  after  which  they  were  escorted 
through  the  old-fashioned  long  hall  to  the  front 
porch  where  they  rested  and  awaited  the  good 
dinner  already  in  progress  for  them. 

Mrs.  Boone  was  sick  in  bed,  and  one  or  two  of 
the  soldiers  seeing  some  one  in  bed,  and  more  to 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  45 

find  out  who  was  there  than  anything  else,  saun- 
tered into  the  room  and  up  to  the  bed.  As  soon 
as  he  saw  he  had  made  a  mistake,  he  quickly 
apologized  and  retreated  to  the  front  porch, 
where,  to  cover  his  embarrassment,  he  asked  how 
far  it  was  to  Haynes'.  Boone  told  him  it  was 
seven  miles. 

Fearing  the  soldiers  would  become  restless  by 
their  prolonged  wait  for  dinner,  Colonel  Boone 
went  into  the  house  and  told  his  two  daughters. 
Maggie  and  Mollie,  to  help  the  old  negro  lady 
get  dinner,  and  to  stay  in  the  dining  room  during 
the  dinner  hour  and  wait  on  the  soldiers,  and  be 
as  pleasant  as  possible  with  them.  He  told  the 
girls  that  he  was  afraid  the  soldiers  were  messeng- 
ers of  mischief,  sent  there  at  the  suggestion  of  Mr. 
Haynes,  but  that  he  had  not  decided  just  what 
they  intended  to  do.  It  was  the  idea  of  Colonel 
Boone  to  make  the  whiskey  draw  the  object  of 
this  visit  to  him,  from  his  guests,  and  some  of  the 
more  talkative  ones  had  already  begun  to  divulge 
their  business.  The  Colonel  decided  to  leave  them 
alone  so  they  could  consult  with  themselves,  so 
busied  himself  about  the  house  making  his  visitors 
comfortable  wherever  he  could.  He  stopped  in 
the  living  room  and  listened  to  the  conversation 
going  on  between  the  soldiers  out  on  the  porch, 
which  conversation  sometimes  developed  into  an 
argument  about  Mr.  Haynes  and  the  Lieutenant, 
the  full  import  of  which  he  could  not  glean.  Then 
he  returned  to  the  porch,  in  a  round-about  way, 
brought  up  the  subject  of  distance,  from  his  place 
to  Haynes.  He  then  said:  °'Mr.  Haynes  had  an 
ill-feeling  toward  me,  and  I  have  been  told  that 


46  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

he  is  circulating  a  report  that  I  am  a  rebel,  and 
that  he  intends  to  do  me  bodily  harm."  One  sol- 
dier was  in  good  condition  then  to  talk — the  toddy 
had  done  its  work  well — and  he  said:  "I  gad, 

Colonel,   you   ah   jes'   about   right ;"    but   he 

could  get  no  further.  One  soldier  had  closed  his 
mouth,  with  the  remark  to  Colonel  Boone,  that 
some  soldiers  never  knew  what  they  were  talking 
about,  when  they  had  enjoyed  a  good  glass  of 
whiskey.  The  Colonel  laughed  as  though  the  sub- 
ject was  of  no  importance  to  him  and  strolled 
out  in  the  yard.  Just  then  Mollie  Boone  appeared 
at  the  dining  room  door  with  a  cheery  smile,  be- 
guiling as  the  flower  in  her  hair  was  fragrant, 
and  with  a  "welcome,  gentlemen,  to  the  Boone 
home,"  in  her  comely  face,  bade  them  all  go  in 
to  dinner.  At  the  dinner  table  wit  and  mirth 
flowed  as  freely  as  did  the  water  down  the  throats 
of  those  hungry  boys  in  blue. 

When  these  boys  had  partaken  of  this  bounty 
to  their  full  satisfaction,  they  thanked  the  pretty 
waitresses  for  the  excellent  dinner.  The  daugh- 
ters followed  them  from  the  dining  room  begging 
them  to  never  pass  this  way  without  coming  in 
to  see  them,  and  promising  to  have  a  feast  pre- 
pared for  them.  They  departed,  the  girls  return- 
ing to  the  dining  room  to  peep  behind  curtains  to 
watch  the  manly  soldiers  disappear  around  the 
house,  to  the  stables  where  their  horses  were  still 
munching  the  hay,  caring  nothing  at  all  about 
returning  to  the  station  at  Haynes'. 

The  next  trip  I  made  to  Bent's  Fort  was  made 
without  a  conductor  on  the  stage.  One  of  the 
owners  of  the  Stage  Company,  Mr.  J.  T.  Barnum, 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  47 

said  to  me:  "Billy,  you  go  through  to  Denver 
with  the  express  and  mail,  and  then  act  as  conduc- 
tor back  again  to  the  Fort." 

On  my  return  trip,  I  came  in  contact  with 
a  company  of  soldiers  camped  at  Pueblo,  Colorado. 
Several  of  the  soldiers  were  at  the  Hotel  at  Pueblo, 
and  during  our  talk  together,  I  asked  one  of  the 
soldiers  if  he  knew  a  Sergeant  by  the  name  of  Joe 
Graham.  "Oh,  yes,"  one  man  replied,  "he  is  down 
there  in  camp  now."  This  soldier  volunteered  to 
bring  him  to  see  me. 

Mr.  Graham's  father  was  a  Methodist  preacher 
in  Monterey,  New  York,  when  Joe  and  I  were 
small  boys,  and  we  greeted  each  other  with 
warmth  and  affection,  and  had  a  jolly  time  talking 
over  the  "old  times"  when  we  were  bare-footed 
school  lads.  Finally  Joe  asked  me  where  I  "was 
holding  forth  and  what  I  was  doing?"  I  told  him 
that  I  had  been  living  with  Colonel  Boone,  driving 
the  stage  coach  from  there  to  Bent's  Old  Fort,  but 
this  trip  I  was  on  my  way  from  Denver  acting  as 
conductor  of  the  mail.  Mr.  Graham  asked  me 
how  long  I  had  been  with  Colonel  Boone.  I  told 
him  I  had  been  with  him  up  to  that  time,  about 
six  months.  "I  understand,  said  Mr.  Graham, 
"that  Mr.  Boone  is  a  rebel."  I  told  him  that  he 
was  most  emphatically  mistaken,  that  Colonel 
Boone  was  one  of  the  strongest  Union  men  I  had 
ever  known,  and  that  he  was  as  strong  a  Unionist 
as  ever  lived.  Then  it  was  that  I  found  out  what 
mischief  Haynes  had  sent  the  soldiers  to  the  home 
of  Colonel  Boone,  to  do. 

Joe  Graham  told  me  that  he  was  the  Orderly 
Sergeant  of  the  company  that  had  camped  at  Mr. 


48  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

Haynes,  and  Mr.  Haynes  had  told  the  Lieutenant 
that  Colonel  Boone  was  a  rebel,  and  had  a  com- 
pany of  Texas  Rangers  camped  close  to  his  prem- 
ises for  the  purpose  of  making  a  raid  on  the  Union 
soldiers.  Joe  Graham  stated  that  the  Lieutenant 
had  ordered  him  to  take  some  soldiers  and  go  to 
the  home  of  Colonel  Boone,  and  if  he  found  things 
as  Haynes  had  represented,  to  confiscate  all  his 
property,  and  to  burn  all  his  buildings,  but  that 
the  Lieutenant  had  cautioned  them  to  be  careful 
and  to  ascertain  if  the  story  Haynes  had  told  was 
true  before  they  began  depredations. 

When  Old  Joe  had  finished  his  recital,  my 
"dander  was  up."  "Joe,"  said  I,  "will  you  give  me 
an  affidavit  of  these  facts,  with  the  statement  of 
Mr.  Haynes  to  the  Lieutenant?"  He  told  me  that 
he  would  be  pleased  to  do  so.  We  went  to  the 
Stage  Company's  office  where  Dan  Hayden,  a 
Notary  Public  in  and  for  Pueblo,  Colorado,  drew 
up  the  statement  and  Sergeant  Graham  verified  it. 

After  thanking  Mr.  Graham  for  his  kindness  in 
this  matter,  I  proceeded  to  Bent's  Fort,  with  what 
I  considered  good  evidence  of  Mr.  Haynes'  guilt. 
When  I  arrived  at  Bent's  Fort,  I  had  time  to  go 
from  there  to  Fort  Lyons  to  meet  the  stage 
coming  from  the  States,  and  I  took  this  affidavit 
with  me  to  Major  Anthony,  the  Commanding 
Officer  of  Fort  Lyons.  Mr.  Anthony  told  me  that 
he  had  heard  of  some  such  talk  as  this,  coming 
from  Mr.  Haynes.  He  immediately  sent  two  sol- 
diers to  Mr.  Haynes'  and  had  him  put  under  arrest 
and  brought  to  the  Fort.  Mr.  Haynes  was  taken 
to  Denver,  Colorado,  given  a  trial,  convicted,  and 
sentenced  to  the  penitentiary. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Macauley  and  Lambert  Spar;  Macauley  is  Placed 

in  Guard  House  and  the  Indian  Agency 

Reverts  to  Major  Anthony. 

A  few  weeks  prior  to  the  event  last  reported, 
the  Indians  reported  to  Colonel  Boone  that  their 
agent,  Mr.  Macauley,  was  doing  them  an  injustice. 
They  declared  to  Colonel  Boone  that  they  had  as 
much  right  to  take  something  to  eat  from  their 
wagons  and  trains  as  Mr.  Macauley  had  to  steal 
the  goods  sent  there  for  them,  and  as  long  as  they 
were  being  dealt  with  fairly  they  would  deal  fairly 
in  return.  It  was  to  that  end  that  Colonel  Boone 
had  perfected  the  treaty  with  them,  and  they 
were  not  the  aggressors.  Satanta,  the  great  chief 
of  the  Kiowas,  represented  the  Indians  in  this 
instance. 

When  this  fact  became  known  Mr.  Macauley 
was  placed  in  the  guard  house  at  Fort  Lyons  for 
dishonesty  with  the  Indians. 

When  Mr.  Macauley  found  that  the  Indians 
were  becoming  hostile  because  of  his  dishonesty, 
he  went  to  the  Stage  Company's  office  at  Fort 
Lyons  and  proposed  to  Mr.  Lambert  to  put  up  a 
large  stone  building  on  the  Stage  Company's 
ground,  for  the  purpose  of  storing  goods.  Mr. 
Lambert  began  to  sniff  the  air  at  once,  he  thought 
he  had  found  a  mouse,  and  he  said:  "Mr.  Mac- 
auley, I  haven't  the  money  to  erect  a  building  of 
that  kind  now."  Mr.  Macauley  told  him  that  he 
would  not  have  to  furnish  a  cent  of  money,  that 
he,  himself,  would  erect  the  building,  but  he 


SO  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

wanted  it  put  up  under  Lambert's  name.  He  told 
Lambert  that  he  could  get  the  Government  team- 
sters to  haul  the  rock  and  put  up  the  building,  and 
it  wouldn't  cost  him  anything  to  amount  to  any- 
thing, either.  Mr.  Lambert  told  Mr.  Macauley 
that  he  could  not  see  the  advisability  of  such  a 
building.  "But,"  said  Macauley,  "there's  so  much 
condemned  goods,  such  as  flour,  meat  and  other 
groceries — the  flour  is  wormy — and  we  can  buy 
them  for  nearly  nothing,  and  could  sell  them  for 
a  big  profit."  He  told  Lambert  they  could  get 
rich  enough  to  go  East  in  a  little  while,  and  live 
like  Princes,  such  as  they  were,  if  shortness  of 
means  did  not  tie  them  to  the  Western  Plains. 
Soon  their  coffers  would  be  filled  to  overflowing, 
if  they  but  planted  the  seeds  of  his  cunning  mind, 
they  would  fructify  with  a  harvest  of  plenty,  and 
they  would  reap  a  rich  reward;  for  the  goods  that 
came  in  for  the  Indians  were  rapidly  accumulating, 
and  at  that  time,  there  was  already  a  heavy  excess. 

Finally  after  they  had  reached  the  front  room 
of  the  Lambert  home,  and  the  conversation  had 
taken  on  a  still  more  confidential  turn,  Mr.  Lam- 
bert wheeled  on  his  guest,  and  in  tones  not  meant 
to  inspire  the  greatest  confidence,  almost  shouted 
to  Macauley,  these  words:  "Do  you  mean  to 
come  here  and  make  a  proposition  for  me  to  build 
you  a  hiding  place  to  put  your  stolen  Indian  goods 
in,  over  my  name  and  signature?  Now,  sir,  your 
proposition  would  place  Bob  Lambert  in  the  guard 
house,  while  you,  the  man  who  steals  these  goods 
— you  have  as  much  as  said  that  they  were  sent 
here  for  the  Indians — you  would  go  free."  Bob 
Lambert  was  a  mad  animal  when  he  was  mad,  and 


THE    SECOND    WILLIAM    PENN  51 

on  he  went,  thundering  like  a  bull  who  had  sud- 
denly beheld  a  red  umbrella:  "Macauley,  you 
dog!  the  goods  you  are  withholding  from  these 
Indians  are  causing  trouble  along  the  whole  fron- 
tier, and  it  will  amount  to  a  bloody  battle  with 
these  ignorant  people;  but,  I  say  to  you,  these 
Indians  are  not  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  it  is  you 
who  are  stealing  their  stuff.  Nevertheless,  the 
whole  white  tribe  will  suffer  through  your  dis- 
honesty. These  Indians  have  a  right  to  protect 
their  rights,  but  in  so  doing,  they  may  do  depreda- 
tions in  the  wrong  place."  Mr.  Macauley  tried 
several  times  to  pacify  Mr.  Lambert;  to  tell  him 
that  he  had  misinterpreted  his  proposition.  He 
wanted  to  explain  himself  further  and  more  fully, 
but  Mr.  Lambert  would  have  none  of  it,  and  told 
him  to  get  himself  out  of  his  house,  away  from 
his  premises,  and  to  remain  away. 

While  Mr.  Macauley  was  hesitating,  Mr.  Lam- 
bert drew  his  pistol  and  with  one  word,  that 
sounded  like  a  roar  from  a  mighty  lion,  said,  "Go!" 
Mr.  Macauley  turned  to  leave,  and  Lambert  yelled 
after  him:  "Run,  you  thief,  get  up  and  hurry,  or  I 
will  fill  your  legs  full  of  lead;"  and  Macauley  did 
run. 

At  this  time  Major  Anthony  was  the  Com- 
manding Officer  of  Fort  Lyons.  Mr.  Macauley 
ran  to  the  Major's  office,  reaching  there  greatly 
excited  and  in  an  almost  exhausted  condition,  he 
demanded  Major  Anthony  to  put  the  chains  on 
Mr.  Lambert,  and  to  chain  him  to  the  floor. 
Major  Anthony  asked  him  what  the  matter  was. 
Mr.  Macauley  began  what  sounded  like  a  very 
plausible  story  of  his  encounter  with  Mr.  Lambert. 


52  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

When  he  stopped  to  catch  his  breath,  he  again 
ordered  Major  Anthony  to  send  at  once  for  Lam- 
bert, and  place  him  in  the  guard  house  for  threat- 
ening his  life. 

Major  Anthony  rang  the  bell;  the  sentinel  came 
in.  "Mr.  Sentinel,"  ordered  Major  Anthony,  "go 
at  once  to  Mr.  Lambert's  and  tell  him  I  want  to 
see  him,  immediately."  When  the  sentinel  told 
Mr.  Lambert  his  mission,  he  prepared  at  once  to 
go  to  the  Major.  While  the  sentinel  was  gone 
for  Mr.  Lambert,  Mr.  Macauley  attempted  to  leave 
the  office  of  Major  Anthony  before  the  return  of 
the  sentinel  and  Lambert,  but  Major  Anthony  re- 
fused to  permit  his  exit,  though  he  had  twice  at- 
tempted to  leave  before  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Lambert. 
Mr.  Macauley  asked  the  Major  why  he  could  not 
accept  his  given  word,  as  correct.  But  impartial 
Major  Anthony  assured  him  that  to  put  a  man  in 
the  guard  house  without  a  hearing,  would  be  un- 
fair. He  said  he  would  give  Mr.  Lambert  a  trial. 
Mr.  Macauley  grew  furious,  and  told  the  Major 
that  if  he  wanted  to  take  Lambert's  word  for  this 
occurrence,  instead  of  his,  that  he  would  go,  and 
he  arose  to  leave  the  room,  but  Major  Anthony 
restrained  him.  Major  Anthony  said :  "Now,  Mr. 
Macauley,  you  sit  down  and  cool  off,  and  remain 
seated,  until  the  completion  of  this  trial  between 
yourself  and  Mr.  Lambert."  At  this  juncture,  Mr. 
Lambert  and  the  sentinel  appeared  in  the  doorway. 
Mr.  Lambert  advanced,  with  a  salute,  said:  "At 
your  service,  Major  Anthony,  what  can  I  do  for 
you?"  Said  Major  Anthony:  "You  can  tell  the 
cause  of  this  disturbance  between  yourself  and 
Mr.  Macauley.  Mr.  Macauley  has  already  made 


v  THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  53 

his  statement,  and  I  want  to  hear  what  you  have 
to  say."  "Major,"  said  Mr.  Lambert,  "will  you 
not  let  Mr.  Macauley  state  the  facts  to  you  again, 
in  my  presence,  regarding  this  affair?"  Mr.  Lam- 
bert then  drew  his  pistol  out  of  his  scabbard,  laid 
it  on  the  table  across  from  Mr.  Macauley,  and 
politely  requested  Major  Anthony  to  permit  Mac- 
auley to  tell  him  the  exact  truth  of  the  matter  in 
controversy,  beginning  from  the  time  he  had 
entered  his  premises,  with  his  vile  proposition, 
until  the  time  of  his  Hasty  departure,  from  his 
house. 

Mr.  Lambert  turned  to  Macauley  with  a  little 
quick,  nervous  jesture,  saying:  "Macauley,  you  tell 
Major  Anthony  the  truth,  and  if  you  mince  words, 
and  do  not  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and 
nothing  but  the  truth,  I  will  kill  you." 

Mr.  Macauley  called  on  Major  Anthony  for 
protection,  but  the  Major  only  replied,  that  he  saw 
no  need  for  protection,  that  all  he  had  to  do  was 
to  tell  the  truth  in  the  matter,,  and  that  he  would 
vouch  for  Mr.  Lambert's  peaceableness.  "Now," 
said  Major  Anthony,  "you  may  proceed  with  your 
story.  The  truth  is  your  best  trick,  and  I  must 
get  it  off  my  hands,  be  quick  about  it." 

Mr.  Macauley  began  the  narrative  with  many 
a  jerk  and  start,  Major  Anthony  was  judge  and 
jury,  Mr.  Lambert  was  a  quiet  spectator,  but  his 
wonderful  eyes  kept  the  witness  on  the  right  track, 
until  he  had  almost  completed  his  story  and  at- 
tempted to  evade  part  of  the  conversation.  Lam- 
bert turned  his  commanding  eyes  upon  the  culprit, 
demanding  that  not  one  iota  of  that  proposition 
be  left  out  of  his  recital.  Brought  to  bay,  Mac- 


54  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

auley  had  nothing  to  do,  but  confess  his  crime  and 
the  proposition  made  Mr.  Lambert,  but  his  nerve 
had  broken  loose  and  he  was  a  whining,  puny 
puppy. 

"Now,  Mr.  Lambert,"  said  Major  Anthony,  "I 
am  much  obliged  to  you  and  you  can  go  to  your 
quarters."  Major  Anthony  again  rang  for  the 
sentinel  and  told  him  to  bring  the  sergeant  of  the 
guard  house  to  him. 

When  the  sergeant  came,  Major  Anthony 
turned  to  Macauley  and  told  him  that  he  was  dis- 
missed from  the  post  as  agent  of  the  Indian  Sup- 
plies, and  he,  himself,  would  have  to  be  the  com- 
missioner until  the  government  appointed  some 
one  to  supercede  him.  When  the  Major  turned 
Macauley  over  to  the  Sergeant,  he  told  him  to 
take  the  "thief  to  the  guard  house  and  to  see  to 
it  that  he  did  not  escape. 

A  few  days  after  this  episode,  Major  Anthony 
notified  the  Indians  to  come  and  receive  their 
annuities,  as  far  as  possible,  from  the  remains. 
Then  he  gave  the  Indians  to  understand  that  it 
was  the  intention  of  the  government,  that  they 
be  fairly  dealt  with,  and  follow  the  terms  of  the 
treaty  made  by  Colonel  A.  G.  Boone. 

That  night  the  Indians  had  a  big  celebration, 
dancing,  singing,  yelling  and  horse-racing,  and 
signified  that  they  now  had  a  better  feeling 
toward  the  white  race — that  of  brother — now  that 
Major  Anthony  had  settled  their  grievances  by 
removing  Mr.  Macauley  from  the  commission. 

Major  Anthony  reported  Mr.  Macauley's  con- 
duct to  headquarters  at  Leavenworth,  and  the 
Leavenworth  authorities  came  after  him,  but 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  55 

through  the  white-washing  of  some  one,  this 
reprobate  went  scot  free. 

After  the  Chivington  Massacre  on  Sand  Creek, 
the  War  Department  was  greatly  disturbed  over 
the  action  of  the  Indians.  Colonel  Ford,  who  was 
stationed  at  Fort  Larned,  was  ordered  to  patrol 
the  country  on  the  western  boundary  of  Kansas 
and  eastern  Colorado',  about  half  way  between 
the  Arkansas  River  and  the  North  Platte.  He 
started  out  with  500  fully  equipped  soldiers  and 
proceeded  about  350  miles  to  the  northwest,  and 
without  finding  signs  of  Indians,  he  went  into 
camp. 

In  the  month  of  October,  in  the  year  of  1863, 
William  Poole  of  Independence,  Missouri,  pack 
master  of  a  mule  train,  discovered  a  few  smokes 
circling  their  camp,  and  told  Colonel  Ford  of  his 
find.  Mr.  Ford  made  light  of  it,  but  the  First 
Lieutenant  of  one  of  the  companies  said  that  he 
was  going  to  take  every  precaution  possible,  to 
protect  his  valuable  horse,  and  that  he  would  not 
let  it  go  out  to  range  with  the  mules. 

Mr.  Poole  tethered  all  his  mules,  that  is,  tied 
their  forefeet  about  18  inches  apart,  so  they  could 
walk  around  and  graze,  but  not  run,  and  placed 
double  guard  over  the  animals. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  five  Indians  with 
Buffalo  robes  swinging  in  the  air,  gave  the  war 
whoop  and  stampeded  the  soldiers  of  Colonel 
Ford,  and  took  every  horse,  but  that  belonging  to 
the  fastidious  Lieutenant.  Every  soldier  nursed 
his  "sore  head"  and  had  no  consolation,  but  to 
tell  how  slick  those  "red  devils"  relieved  them  of 
their  horses. 


56  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

When  the  horses  were  gone,  the  soldiers  had 
no  further  use  of  their  saddles  and  blankets. 
Colonel  Ford  ordered  them  burned  so  the  Indians 
could  not  profit  by  them.  However,  this  was  an 
error  on  the  part  of  the  Colonel,  as  will  be  seen. 
All  the  horses  and  saddles  would  have  been  re- 
turned in  due  time.  Three  weeks  after  Ford's 
experience  in  the  Indian  country,  an  old  Indian 
and  his  squaw  came  riding  into  Fort  Larned  on 
two  of  the  horses,  which  they  traded  off  for  nuts, 
candy,  sugar  and  more  candy,  and  were  highly 
pleased  over  their  exchange.  They  had  no  use 
for  the  large  horses  because  they  could  not  stand 
the  weather  as  well  as  their  Indian  ponies.  They 
grinningly  told  the  storekeeper  they  would  return 
in  "two  moons"  with  more  horses. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Fort  Riley  Soldiers  Go  to  Fort  Larned  to 

Horse  Race  With  Cheyennes,  Com- 

anches  and  Kiowas. 

The  Indians  are  great  people  for  sport  and 
amusement  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  imagine 
a  more  inveterate  gambler.  Their  greatest  ambi- 
tion is  to  excel  in  strength  and  endurance. 

Several  times  as  our  coaches  meandered  across 
the  plains,  we  came  upon  the  lodges  of  thousands 
of  Indians,  where  the  male  population  were  trying 
their  skill  at  horse-racing.  Even  the  small  boys, 
many  times  as  many  as  fifteen  or  twenty,  would 
be  horse-racing  and  the  chiefs  would  be  betting 
upon  their  favorites. 

For  their  race  tracks,  they  dug  ditches  about 
four  feet  apart  and  threw  up  the  sod  and  dirt  be- 
tween the  ditches.  The  whole  tribe  then  packed 
the  ground  in  the  tracks  hard  and  smooth  by 
riding  their  horses  up  and  down  those  tracks  to 
pack  the  dirt  still  more  firmly.  These  tracks  were 
generally  one  and  one-eighth  miles  long.  The 
Indians  would  then  select  a  horse  which  they 
regarded  as  especially  swift  and  banter  the  soldiers 
for  a  horse  race,  which  the  soldiers  were  quick  to 
accept,  if  they  were  lucky  enough  to  get  a  fur- 
lough. These  Fort  Riley  soldiers  always  brought 
their  best  horses  to  Fort  Larned  to  race  against 
the  Indians'  race  ponies. 

Once  during  the  summer  of  1863  when  there 
were  only  a  few  white  people  at  Fort  Larned,  the 
Indians,  about  15,000  strong,  commenced  prepara- 


58  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

tion  for  a  horse  race  between  themselves  and  the 
Fort  Riley  soldiers.  Everything  was  completed 
and  the  Indian  ponies  were  in  good  trim  to  beat 
the  soldiers.  The  Indians  had  placed  their  stakes 
consisting  of  ponies,  buffalo  robes,  deer  skins, 
trinkets  of  all  kinds  and  characters,  in  the  hands 
of  their  squaws.  Then  the  Fort  Riley  soldiers 
came  and  the  betting  was  exciting  in  the  extreme, 
the  soldiers  betting  silver  dollars  against  their 
ponies,  etc.  The  soldiers  were  victorious  and 
highly  pleased  over  the  winnings.  The  Indians 
handed  the  bets  over  manfully  and  without  a 
flinch,  but  one  Indian  afterward  told  me  that  they 
had  certainly  expected  to  have  been  treated  to  at 
least  a  smoke  or  a  drink  of  "fire  water;"  but  the 
soldiers  rode  away  laughing  and  joking  and  prom- 
ised the  Indians  to  return  in  "two  moons,"  per- 
haps "three  moons,"  in  response  to  their  invitation. 
I  was  at  this  race  and  joined  in  the  sport.  Every- 
thing was  as  pleasant  as  could  be.  There  was  no 
disturbance  of  any  kind  and  the  soldiers  took  their 
"booty"  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  did  not  even 
invite  the  Indians  to  smoke  a  consolation  pipe. 

During  the  fall  of  1863  a  small  band  of  Com- 
anches  and  Kiowas  went  to  Texas  and  procured 
a  white  faced,  white  footed,  tall,  slim  black  stallion 
for  racing  purposes.  In  elation  they  notified  the 
Fort  Riley  soldiers  to  come  again.  This  time, 
not  only  did  the  Fort  Riley  soldiers  come,  but 
citizens  from  all  over  the  whole  country  for  a  dis- 
tance of  from  300  to  500  miles  came  to  see  the  fun. 
There  were  from  twenty  to  thirty  thousand  Indi- 
ans there,  and  the  Indians  who  invited  them  pre- 
pared to  take  care  of  a  large  crowd  in  good  style, 


THE   SECOND    WILLIAM    PENN  59 

so  confident  were  they  that  this  time  "the  pot" 
would  be  theirs.  They  had  hunted  down,  killed 
and  dressed  some  fifty  or  sixty  buffalo,  and  had 
them  cooking  whole,  in  the  ground — barbecuing 
the  meats.  This  time  the  putting  up  of  the  bets 
before  the  races  came  off  was  still  more  exciting 
than  at  the  previous  race,  for  the  Indians  had  from 
500  to  1,000  ponies  to  put  up.  The  white  men 
matched  their  money  against  the  ponies  of  the 
Indians.  The  race  had  begun.  As  it  proceeded, 
shouts  of  "Hooray,  hooray,  the  Indians'  black 
stallion  is  ahead,  100  feet  in  advance  of  the  sol- 
diers' horse,  he  goes.  The  race  is  won,  and  the 
black  stallion  stands  erect  and  excited,  proud  and 
defiant,  and  has  won  the  laurel  for  his  man,  and 
seems  to  know  that  the  trophy  is  theirs.  All  had 
placed  their  bets  in  the  hands  of  the  squaws  for 
the  spokesman,  Little  Ravin,  the  orator  and  reg- 
ular dude  of  the  Arapahoes,  gave  the  white  people 
to  understand  that  everything  would  be  safe  in  the 
hands  of  the  squaws  he  had  selected  to  hold  stakes 
These  squaws  proved  true  to  their  trust.  After 
the  distribution  of  the  winnings,  Little  Ravin  told 
the  soldiers  to  stay  and  eat.  Everybody  grew 
merry.  The  soldiers  went  to  the  government 
dining  room  there  at  Fort  Larned  and  got  all  the 
knives  and  forks  they  could  rake  and  scrape  to- 
gether and  took  them  to  the  barbecue.  When 
the  Indians  saw  that  the  white  people  had  entered 
into  the  banquet  with  such  enthusiasm  and  zest 
they  went  to  the  settlers'  store  and  bought  two  or 
three  hundred  dollars  worth  of  candies,  canned 
goods  of  all  kinds,  crackers,  etc.,  to  make  their 
variety  larger.  They  also  bought  50  boxes  of 


60  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

cigars  with  which  to  treat  the  citizens  and  soldiers. 
When  everything  was  in  readiness  for  the  feast, 
the  white  men  all  stood  up  near  the  feast  with  a 
few  of  the  greatest  chiefs  of  the  several  tribes, 
while  the  other  Indians  who  were  not  acting  as 
waiters,  to  see  that  the  choicest  pieces  of  buffalo 
meat  were  given  their  guests,  stood  in  a  ring  back 
of  the  white  guests,  and  did  not  attempt  to  satisfy 
their  hunger  until  after  the  whites  had  demon- 
strated that  they  had  feasted  to  the  brim.  This 
was  one  of  the  most  amusing  incidents  of  my  life 
on  the  frontier,  and  the  Fort  Riley  boys  felt  that 
in  this  treatment,  they  had  been  dealt  a  blow  to 
their  own  generosity,  and  one  of  the  soldiers  acting 
as  spokesman,  told  the  Indians  that  they  were 
ashamed  of  their  own  lack  of  hospitality  when 
they  were  the  winners  of  the  other  race.  This 
pleased  the  Indians  greatly,  and  they  fell  an  easy 
victim  to  the  duplicity  of  the  soldiers  and  made  a 
contract  to  sell  their  black  stallion  racing  horse 
to  them  for  the  sum  of  $2,000,  which  sale  was  to  be 
completed  60  days  later  if  the  soldiers  still  wanted 
the  purchase  of  the  horse,  at  which  time  they  were 
to  notify  the  Chief,  and  he  was  to  bring  or  send 
him  to  Fort  Riley.  This  was  a  great  sacrifice,  but 
the  ignorant  Indian  was  not  aware  of  it.  During 
the  60  days  before  the  Indian  brought  the  horse  in 
and  received  their  money  one  soldier  went  up  to 
St.  Joe  and  sold  this  horse,  so  I  have  been  told 
for  the  sum  of  $10,000  in  cash,  but  for  the  truth 
of  this  statement  I  will  not  vouch. 

It  is  a  picturesque  sight  to  watch  the  Indians 
move  camp.  Their  trains  often  covered  several 
hundred  acres  of  land.  The  Indians  usually  move 


THE   SECOND    WILLIAM   PENN  61 

in  a  large  body,  or  band.  Their  moving  "van" 
consists  of  two  long  slim  poles  placed  on  each  side 
of  a  pony,  made  fast  by  means  of  straps  tanned 
by  the  squaws  from  buckskin  and  buffalo  hides. 
About  six  or  seven  feet  from  the  ponies'  heels  are 
placed  two  crossbars  about  three  or  four  feet 
apart,  connected  by  weaving  willow  brush  from 
one  crossbar  to  the  other,  between  these  shafts,  or 
poles,  hitched  to  the  pony.  Upon  this  woven 
space  or  "hold"  are  placed  the  household  goods, 
the  folded  tents  or  tepees,  and  lastly,  their  children 
and  decrepit  Indians. 

It  is  not  unusual  to  see  several  thousand  of 
these  strange  vans  moving  together,  their  trains 
being  sometimes  three  or  four  miles  in  length. 
Then  their  politeness  might  also  be  spoken  of, 
for  while  it  is  true  that  they  have  a  traditional 
politeness,  it  is  not  a  matter  of  history.  Their 
sledges  were  never  in  the  public  road  but  at  least 
10  to  20  rods  outside  of  the  road  in  the  sage  brush 
and  cactus,  leaving  the  road  free  for  the  Stage 
Company's  mail  coach. 

In  all  the  different  books  I  have  ever  read,  I 
have  never  seen  one  word  of  praise  for  any  cour- 
tesy the  Indians  gave  us  during  those  frontier 
days,  but  instead  I  find  nothing  but  abuse.  The 
Indian  is  the  only  natural  born  American  and  the 
only  people  to  inhabit  North  America  before  the 
discovery  by  Columbus.  This  land  we  so  greatly 
love  rightfully  belonged  to  the  Red  Man  of  the 
forest,  and  it  is  my  opinion  that  they  had  as  much 
right  to  protect  their  own  lands  as  do  we  in  this 
century.  The  novelists\howl  about  the  depreda- 
tions committed  by  the  Indian,  but  their  ravings 


62  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

are  made  more  to  sell  their  books  and  to  create 
animosity  than  for  any  good  purposes. 

The  Eastern  people  eagerly  read  everything 
they  found  that  abused  the  Indians,  and  the  Indi- 
ans in  those  days  had  no  presses  in  which  to  make 
known  their  grievances.  The  only  thing  left  was 
to  get  vengeance  wherever  he  found  a  white  man. 
"To  me  belongeth  vengeance  and  recompense." 
Personally  I  blame  the  press  for  loss  of  life  to  both 
the  Indian  and  the  white  men,  for  having  schooled 
the  white  man  erroneously.  Travelers  crossing 
the  plains  were  always  on  the  defensive,  and  ever 
ready  to  commence  war  on  any  Indian  who  came 
within  the  radius  of  their  firearms.  When  I  was 
a  boy  I  read  in  my  reader:  "Lo,  the  cowardly 
Indian.'  The  picture  above  this  sentence  was  that 
of  an  Indian  in  war  paint,  holding  his  bow  and 
arrow,  ready  to  shoot  a  white  man  in  the  back. 

The  novelists  write  many  things  of  how  Kit 
Carson  shot  the  Indians.  Kit  Carson  was  a  per- 
sonal friend  of  mine,  and  when  I  read  snatches  to 
him  from  books  making  him  a  "heap  big  Indian 
killer,"  he  always  grew  furious  and  said  it  was  a 
"damn  lie,"  that  he  never  had  killed  an  Indian, 
and  if  he  had,  that  he  could  not  have  made  the 
treaties  with  them  that  he  had  made,  and  his  scalp 
would  have  been  the  forfeit.  At  one  time  Kit 
Carson  went  on  an  Indian  raid  with  Colonel  Willis 
down  into  Western  Indian  Territory.  He  volun- 
teered to  go  with  Colonel  Willis  to  protect  him 
and  his  soldiers,  and  at  this  very  time  Colonel 
Henry  Inman  tells  of  Kit  Carson  being  on  the 
plains  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  with  a  large  company 
of  soldiers  under  his  command,  shooting  Indians. 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  63 

This  is  a  mis-statement  of  Colonel  Inman.  Kit 
Carson  never  had  a  company  of  soldiers,  was  not 
a  military  man,  and  at  no  time  raided  the  Indians. 
As  will  be  seen  in  another  chapter  of  this  book, 
he  was  simply  a  scout  and  protector  for  the  sol- 
diers. Like  Dryden,  however,  "I  have  given  my 
opinion  against  the  authority  of  two  great  men. 
but  I  hope  without  offense  to  their  memories." 
Kit  Carson  said  that  the  Indian,  as  a  people,  are 
just  as  brave  as  any  people.  Their  warriors  were 
not  expected  to  go  out  as  soldiers  with  a  com- 
manding officer,  but  each  was  to  protect  himself. 
That,  in  their  opinion,  was  the  only  way  to  carry 
on  war. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Major  Carleton  Orders  Colonel  Willis  to  Go  Into 

Southwestern   Indian   Territory   and   "Clean 

Out  the  Indians."    Kit  Carson  Volunteers 

to  Go  With  Colonel  Willis  as  Scout 

and  Protector. 

In  June,  1865,  two  or  three  settlers  coming  from 
the  border  of  the  Indian  Country  along  the  Texas 
and  Arizona  line,  into  Santa  Fe,  planned  to  hunt 
and  kill  all  the  game  on  the  reservation  without 
consulting  the  Indians.  This  occasioned  trouble 
and  one  white  man  was  killed.  General  Carleton, 
in  command  of  all  the  Southwestern  country,  sta- 
tioned at  Santa  Fe,  heard  about  the  killing,  and 
without  attempting  to  understand  the  position  the 
Indians  held,  or  in  any  way  to  find  out  the  cause 
of  trouble,  sent  an  order  to  Colonel  Willis,  who 
was  stationed  at  Fort  Union,  to  take  his  300  Cali- 
fornia Volunteers  to  this  reservation  and  to  "Clean 
out  the  Indians."  His  order  was  imperative.  It 
did  not  say  for  him  to  endeavor  to  find  out  the 
cause  of  the  death  of  this  white  man,  but  to  go 
at  once  into  their  camp  and  to  massacre,  confiscate 
anything  of  value,  and  have  no  mercy  on  the  Red- 
skins, who  had  slaughtered  a  white  man  who  was 
"only  hunting"  on  the  Indian  reservation. 

When  Colonel  Willis  got  this  order  he  said  to 
me  that  he  knew  absolutely  nothing  about  the 
Indian  mode  of  warfare,  and  that  he  was  fearful 
of  getting  his  soldiers  all  killed,  and  he  wished  that 
Kit  Carson  would  go  with  him,  but  that  he  would 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  65 

not  ask  him  to  do  so  because  he  knew  that  Carson 
would  disapprove  of  the  orders  he  had  from 
Colonel  Carleton. 

President  Polk  appointed  Kit  Carson  to  a  second 
lieutenancy  and  his  official  duty  was  to  conduct 
the  fifty  soldiers  under  his  command  through  the 
country  of  the  Comanches,  but  for  some  reason  the 
Senate  refused  to  confirm  the  appointment,  and 
he  consequently  had  no  connection  with  the  regu- 
lar army. 

When  Colonel  Willis  had  his  soldiers  all  in  trim 
and  was  about  to  leave  Fort  Union,  Kit  Carson, 
who  had  been  watching  him  from  a  nail  keg  upon 
which  he  was  sitting,  came  up  to  him  and  slapped 
Willis'  horse  on  the  hip,  saying:  "Willis,  I  guess 
I  had  better  go  with  you;  if  you  go  down  there 
alone,  them  red  devils  will  never  let  you  return." 
"Kit,"  said  Colonel  Willis,  "That  is  what  I  want 
you  to  do,  and  we  will  wait  for  you."  But  Kit 
Carson  needed  no  time  to  prepare,  he  threw  his 
saddle  on  and  told  Colonel  Willis  that  he  was 
ready  without  any  delay.  At  about  10  o'clock  in 
the  forenoon  the  company  left  Fort  Union,  carry- 
ing one  cannon  and  plenty  of  ammunition.  At 
about  daybreak  on  their  second  day  out,  they  came 
upon  a  village  of  100  or  more  tents  camped  on 
about  the  line  of  New  Mexico  and  Arizona.  There 
were  Kiowas,  Comanches,  Cheyennes,  Utes,  Arap- 
ahoes  and  some  Apaches  in  this  village.  Colonel 
Willis  said  to  Kit  Carson  that  it  was  about  time 
to  "try  their  little  canon,"  but  Kit  Carson  told  Col. 
Willis  "No."  Kit  asked  Col.  Willis  to  show  him 
his  orders,  which  by  the  way  he  had  not  seen  be- 
fore volunteering  to  come  with  Willis.  When 


66  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

Carson  read  the  order  he  was  startled.  It  had 
never  occurred  to  him  that  a  man  of  Col.  Carle- 
ton's  reputation  would  be  so  unjust.  Now  said 
Kit  Carson  to  Col.  Willis,  "Suppose  we  send  out 
some  runners  and  bring  the  chiefs  to  us  and  see 
what  occasioned  all  this  trouble  that  caused  Gen. 
Carleton  to  give  such  orders."  Col.  Willis  said  he 
had  no  such  orders  as  that  from  Carleton,  and  the 
only  thing  he  could  do  was  to  "beard  the  lion  in 
his  den"  because  his  orders  were  strict,  they  said 
to  go  and  kill  the  Indians  wherever  he  found  them 
and  he  would  be  compelled  to  obey  orders.  The 
consultation  between  Col.  Willis  and  Brevet  Kit 
Carson  almost  amounted  to  an  argument.  Kit 
Carson  declared  that  his  orders  should  have  read 
"in  your  discretion,  etc.,"  and  that  it  was  not  ad- 
visable to  take  life  in  this  manner,  "but  since  you 
must  obey  orders,"  Brevet  Gen.  Kit  Carson  said, 
"Fire  away,  if  every  mother's  son  of  you  lose  your 
scalp." 

At  daybreak  Col.  Willis'  soldiers  fired  into  the 
Indian  camp,  where  dwelt  something  like  1500  In- 
dians, mostly  old  squaws  and  papooses  with  a  few 
able-bodied  warriors.  Few  escaped  with  their 
lives  and  those  who  did  escape  were  entirely  des- 
titute for  the  soldiers  set  fire  to  their  tents  after 
loading  their  wagons  to  the  hilt  with  whatever 
they  considered  might  be  of  value,  buffalo  robes, 
moccasins,  blankets  and  other  assets,  together 
with  all  the  provisions  from  the  camp.  There  were 
several  tons  of  the  latter — buffalo  meat,  antelope, 
venison,  goat,  bear  and  dried  jack  rabbit.  When 
Kit  Carson  found  that  all  this  provision  was  con- 
fiscated he  demanded  that  it  be  unloaded  and  left 
for  the  consumption  of  the  few  remaining  Indians 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  67 

scattered  over  the  plains  who  were  without  food 
or  shelter. 

After  this  raid  they  started  for  the  Indian  Ter- 
ritory and  over  into  Texas,  hunting  for  more  In- 
dians. Kit  Carson  kept  surveying  the  landscape 
with  a  view  to  securing  suitable  places  to  fortify 
against  the  formidable  foe  whom  he  knew  might 
at  any  time  steal  upon  them  and  ambush  them. 
Col.  Willis  had  been  watching  him  for  several 
days  and  was  totally  unable  to  make  out  from  his 
deportment  what  he  was  looking  for.  When  Kit 
Carson  told  him  that  he  was  hunting  for  safe 
camping  places  Col.  Willis  asked  him  if  he  thought 
they  might  be  attacked.  Kit  Carson  told  him  that 
he  knew  that  before  many  "moons"  they  would  be 
surrounded  by  Indians,  and  that  they  must  begin 
their  preparations  for  defense.  Col.  Willis  was  un- 
used to  Indian  signs,  but  Kit  Carson  knew  them 
well.  He  had  already  seen  the  Indian  smokes.  An 
Indian's  telegraphic  means  were  by  smokes  placed 
at  intervening  points.  These  smokes  denote  place, 
number,  etc.,  known  to  all  Indians  and  "path-find- 
ers." Kit  Carson  with  his  field  glass  inspecting 
the  country  had  noticed  these  smokes  and  knew 
that  a  large  band  was  being  called  together.  He 
informed  Col.  Willis  that  they  must  travel  back 
to  a  certain  place  he  had  selected,  a  stone  ridge 
with  a  spring  gushing  out  of  the  side  of  a  cliff.  This 
was  about  4  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  They 
reached  the  stone  ridge  about  dusk.  "Carson," 
said  Willis,  "tell  us  what  to  do,  I  know  nothing 
about  fighting  these  wild  devils."  Kit  Carson  told 
him  to  put  his  soldiers  to  piling  stone  and  make 
a  breastwork  to  hide  behind.  He  told  Willis  to 
send  some  of  the  soldiers  to  the  spring  and  build 


68  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

up  a  wall  several  feet  all  around  it  and  put  some 
of  the  soldiers  in  there  for  protection  and  at  the 
same  time  have  a  place  to  get  water.  The  soldiers 
had  not  a  minute  to  lose.  The  Indians  bore  down 
upon  them  and  sent  arrows  into  their  midst,  but 
did  no  damage.  Kit  Carson  told  a  soldier  to  put 
a  hat  on  a  pole  and  lift  it  up,  that  he  believed  some 
Indians  were  hidden  in  a  wild  plum  thicket  close 
by;  if  so,  they  would  shoot  at  the  hat.  This  hat 
trick  was  tried  several  times.  Kit  Carson  had  lo- 
cated the  Indians  pretty  well  by  this  time  and  told 
Col.  Willis  to  set  his  cannon  so  it  would  shoot 
very  low,  to  barely  miss  the  ground,  and  then  he 
thought  they  would  have  a  chance  to  snatch  a 
"piece  of  sleep"  befote  daylight.  When  the  can- 
non exploded  the  Indians  retreated,  taking  with 
them  their  dead  and  wounded  and  did  not  come 
back  any  more  that  night.  An  Indian  will  risk 
his  life  rather  than  leave  a  dead  member  of  his 
band  in  the  white  man's  possession.  It  is  an  old 
superstition  that  if  a  warrior  loses  his  scalp  he 
forfeits  his  hope  of  ever  reaching  the  "happy  hunt- 
ing ground."  Col.  Willis  and  Kit  Carson  camped 
there  until  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  they 
went  down  off  of  the  stone  ridge  out  onto  the  open 
prairie  twenty  miles  distant,  where  they  again 
camped.  After  dark  they  again  started  out  on  the 
trail.  Indians  hardly  ever  attack  at  night.  Never- 
theless, the  Indians  began  to  congregate  until  they 
numbered  several  thousand  and  chased  Col.  Willis 
and  Kit  Carson  300  miles.  Under  the  clever  man- 
agement of  Kit  Carson's  Indian  tricks  Col.  Willis 
and  his  soldiers  all  escaped  without  a  loss  of  a  man 
or  getting  one  injured.  Kit  Carson  told  me  tnat 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  69 

he  was  "mighty  thankful  that  the  gol-derned  grass 
was  too  green  to  burn." 

My  Position  in  Reference  to  the  Treatment  of 

Indians. 

It  has  been  my  endeavor  in  writing  this  book  to 
relate  incidents  as  they  actually  occurred  and  of 
my  own  personal  knowledge  and  observation.  My 
experience  with  the  Indians  and  my  observations 
with  their  natural  traits  and  characteristics  con- 
vinces me  that  the  white  man  has  not,  in  most  in- 
stances, been  willing  to  do  him  justice  and  has  sub- 
jected him  to  a  great  deal  of  unmerited  abuse  and 
persecution.  The  outbreaks  by  the  Indians  in  all 
instances  that  came  under  my  observation  were 
brought  about  by  the  ill  treatment  of  the  whites. 
The  Indians  were  always  very  reluctant  to  avenge 
themselves  upon  the  whites  for  the  wrongs  done 
them. 

The  Indians  have  been  driven  from  their  hunt- 
ing grounds  until  many  times  they  were  unable  to 
secure  food  and  were  upon  the  verge  of  starvation. 
Naturally,  then,  they  would  approach  the  wagons 
of  the  white  men,  go  to  their  settlements  or  follow 
the  stage  coaches  and  emigrant  trains  in  the  hope 
of  securing  something  to  eat.  The  whites  would 
often  become  unnecessarily  alarmed  and  attempt 
to  frighten  them  away  by  killing  one  or  more  of 
their  number.  As  a  result  of  this  the  Indians 
would  be  aroused  and  take  to  the  warpath  and  at- 
tempt to  avenge  the  death  of  their  lost  warrior  by 
killing  a  white  man  wherever  he  chanced  to  find 
one. 


70  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

I  have  known  such  instances  as  this  to  occur 
many  times  and  had  I  not  exercised  every  care  to 
avoid  hostilities  and  establish  peaceful  relations  be- 
tween myself  and  my  passengers  and  the  Indians 
I  would  no  doubt  have  met  with  a  similar  experi- 
ence in  some  of  my  trips  along  the  Santa  Fe  Trail. 


CHAPTER  XL 

W.  H.  Ryus  Enters  Second  Contract  With  Stage 

Company,  Messenger  and  Conductor  of 

the  U.  S.  Mail  and  Express. 

The  spring  of  1864  I  left  the  services  of  the  stage 
company  and  came  to  Kansas  City,  Kansas,  where 
my  parents  lived. 

In  June  of  that  year  I  bought  a  team,  mowing 
machine  and  wire  hay  rake  and  entered  into  a  con- 
tract to  furnish  hay  to  the  government.  I  took 
my  hay-making  apparatus  out  on  the  prairie,  about 
ten  miles  from  Kansas  City,  and  cut  several  hun- 
dred tons  of  hay  which  I  sold  to  the  government 
quartermaster  at  Kansas  City. 

During  the  summer  of  that  year  Confederate 
General  Price  made  his  famous  raid  through  West- 
port,  going  South  with  his  army,  followed  by  the 
Federal  soldiers. 

There  were  upwards  of  3000  of  the  Federal  mil- 
itia, and  while  on  the  road  from  Westport  to  Kan- 
sas City  they  became  frightened  and  stampeded. 
They  heard  that  Price's  army  was  coming  toward 
them  from  Westport.  It  was  an  exciting  scene 
to  see  men  acting  like  wild  men. 

The  militia  posted  at  Kansas  City,  Kansas,  con- 
sisted of  troops  from  the  counties  of  Brown,  At- 
chison  and  Leavenworth  and  were  under  a  news- 
paper man's  command,  an  editor  from  Hiawatha, 
Kansas,  whose  name  I  do  not  recall.  The  gov- 
ernor of  Kansas  ordered  this  major  to  take  his 
militia  and  go  to  the  line  and  protect  Kansas  City, 
Missouri,  from  Price's  raiders.  The  soldiers  re- 


72  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

fused  to  go  with  their  major  in  command.  How- 
ever, they  agreed  to  go  to  Missouri  if  their  major 
would  resign  in  favor  of  Captain  James  Pope  of 
Schuyler  County,  New  York,  who  was  in  com- 
mand of  a  militia  of  Kansas  soldiers.  This  was 
done  and  Captain  Pope  was  made  major  and  took 
charge  of  the  several  different  companies  besides 
his  own. 

At  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  in  the  lat- 
ter part  of  July  the  militia  then  started  to  go  over 
into  Missouri  after  Gen.  Price.  I  went  along  with 
the  militia,  and  as  we  were  approaching  West- 
port  we  caught  sight  of  several  thousand  stam- 
peding soldiers,  going  as  fast  as  their  legs  would 
carry  them. 

I  rode  up  alongside  of  Major  Pope  and  said, 
"There's  a  stampede,  see  them  coming!  I  will 
make  my  horse  jump  the  fence  and  run  up  to  them 
and  tell  them  Price's  army  is  coming  the  other 
way."  Major  Pope  replied,  "Go  a-flying."  He 
halted  his  troops  and  I  rode  through  the  fields  to- 
ward the  stampeding  soldiers,  yelling  to  them  and 
their  officers  that  Price's  army  was  coming  to- 
ward them  from  Kansas  City.  This  checked  them 
and  gave  them  a  chance  to  collect  their  wits. 

The  officers  of  the  stampeded  troops  then  called 
to  the  soldiers,  "The  rebels  are  coming  this  way, 
right-about-face."  By  the  time  the  stampeded 
troops  were  brought  to  a  halt  they  were  face  to 
face  with  Major  Pope's  regiment.  Major  Pope 
being  an  old  soldier,  understanding  military  tac- 
tics, went  to  the  south  end  of  the  stampeded 
troops,  took  charge  of  them  and  commanded  them 
to  right-about-face  and  started  south  for  West- 
port  on  a  double-quick  time. 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  73 

After  the  militia  had  gotten  under  way  I  put  my 
horse  under  the  dead  run  and  caught  up  with  the 
Union  soldiers  who  were  in  pursuit  of  Price's  army 
at  Indian  Creek,  twenty  miles  from  Westport. 

As  it  was  now  growing  late  I  thought  best  to 
return  to  Kansas  City.  On  my  way  back  I  again 
came  in  contact  with  Major  Pope  with  the  militia 
and  told  him  that  it  was  impossible  for  them  to 
catch  up  with  Price's  raiders  or  the  other  Union 
forces,  for  they  were  going  on  the  dead  run.  I  told 
him  that  he  might  just  as  well  go  into  camp,  which 
he  did,  greatly  to  the  relief  of  his  almost  exhausted 
troopers. 

The  next  day  Major  Pope  was  ordered  back  to 
Kansas  City  to  guard  the  city  in  case  the  rebel 
soldiers  should  undertake  to  raid  it. 
***** 

Dear  reader,  please  accept  my  apologies  for  hav- 
ing left  my  original  subject  and  brought  you  back 
to  the  Civil  war.  Back  to  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  for 
me. 

When  I  got  in  home  at  Wyandotte,  Kansas,  now 
Kansas  City,  Kansas,  a  messenger  from  the  stage 
company  was  awaiting  my  arrival.  He  came  to 
get  me  to  enter  into  a  contract  to  again  enter  the 
services  of  the  stage  company  as  conductor  and 
messenger  of  the  United  States  mail  and  express 
from  Kansas  City  across  the  long  route  to  Santa 
Fe,  New  Mexico.  I  took  the  position  and  started 
out  the  next  morning. 

My  first  noted  passenger  after  I  became  con- 
ductor of  this  stage  coach  was  the  son  of  old  Col- 
onel Leavenworth,  for  whom  Leavenworth  was 
named,  and  who  built  the  fort  about  the  year  of 
1827. 


74  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

After  leaving  Kansas  City  and  getting  settled 
down  to  traveling,  Col.  Leavenworth  Jr.'s  first 
words  to  me  were,  "Have  you  been  on  the  plains 
among  the  Indians  long?"  I  replied  that  I  had 
been  driving  the  mail  among  them  for  three  years. 
His  next  question  was,  "Do  you  know,  or  have  you 
ever  heard  of  Satanta,  the  great  chief  of  the  Kio- 
was?"  I  told  him  that  I  had  seen  him  several 
times  and  had  given  him  many  a  cup  of  coffee  with 
other  provision.  Col.  Leavenworth  Jr.  seemed 
greatly  pleased  with  my  answer  and  told  me  that 
he  had  a  great  affection  for  old  Satanta  and  that 
he  was  one  of  the  nobles  of  his  race,  and  also  one 
of  the  best  men  he  had  ever  known  regardless  of 
race.  Young  Leavenworth  delighted  in  telling  his 
exploits  among  the  Indians  and  I  was  no  poor  lis- 
tener, for  it  always  entertained  me  to  hear  some 
one  give  praise  to  my  Indian  friends.  Mr.  Leaven- 
worth told  me  that  a  great  many  of  the  different 
tribes  of  Indians  came  to  Fort  Leavenworth  to  see 
his  father  and  that  he  had  never  had  any  trouble 
with  them,  however  remote.  At  that  time  young 
Leavenworth  was  a  ten-year-old  boy  and  a  great 
favorite  of  Satanta,  the  Kiowa  chief.  Leavenworth 
Jr.  told  me  that  he  had  gone  on  several  hunting 
trips  with  Satanta  and  be  gone  as  long  as  two 
weeks  away  from  his  father's  fort.  He  told  me 
that  at  one  time  when  he  had  been  away  from 
home  two  years  at  school  in  St.  Louis  that  Satanta 
and  his  tribe  were  there  to  welcome  him  home. 
The  old  chief  wanted  him  to  go  on  the  prairie  with 
them  to  hunt  the  buffalo  and  be  gone  several 
weeks,  so  Leavenworth  Jr.  told  him  that  he  would 
have  to  talk  to  his  father  about  it.  Accordingly 
Satanta  went  to  old  Colonel  Leavenworth  and  told 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  75 

him  that  he  wanted  to  take  young  Leavenworth 
on  an  extended  hunting  trip  and  might  go  over 
into  Colorado  and  other  western  states.  The  old 
colonel  was  reluctant  to  let  the  child  go  with  his 
strange  friends  and  told  Satanta  that  if  his  tribe 
should  become  involved  in  trouble  with  the  whites 
the  boy  might  be  killed.  Satanta  said  "no  such 
ting."  Santanta  told  the  father  that  no  matter 
what  war  they  got  into  they  would  protect  the 
boy  and  return  him  home  safe  and  well.  When 
Satanta's  whole  tribe  came  in  off  the  plains  at  the 
specified  time  they  all  entered  into  an  agreement 
to  protect  the  boy  at  any  sacrifice  if  he  was  per- 
mitted to  accompany  them  on  the  hunt.  In  their 
language  they  took  the  oath  to  protect  the  boy, 
each  one  sworn  in  separately,  and  it  was  agreed 
that  Satanta  would  send  two  of  his  warriors  to  the 
nearest  army  post  every  week  to  tell  his  father 
that  the  boy  was  all  right.  The  boy  always  wrote 
brilliantly  of  his  travels  in  the  wild  western  coun- 
try. His  father  considered  with  much  pride  re- 
served all  these  boyish  letters  which  are  master- 
pieces of  landscape  and  scenic  description.  Copies 
of  these  letters  are  still  on  file  in  the  war  libraries 
and  are  set  aside  as  "things  of  beauty." 

Young  Leavenworth  in  talking  to  me  about  his 
travels  with  Satanta  told  me  that  they  got  into  the 
mountains  about  thirty  days  after  they  left  Fort 
Leavenworth  and  located  in  about  where  Cripple 
Creek  is  now  located.  He  said  the  Indians  found 
and  gathered  considerable  gold.  In  two  places  in 
particular  the  gold  in  the  sands  of  the  creek  bed 
was  very  rich.  They  gathered  gold  for  him  and 
put  it  in  a  buckskin  sack.  What  this  gift  amounted 
to  in  dollars  and  cents  I  have  forgotten,  but  it 


76  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

amounted  to  several  hundred  dollars.  He  was 
gone  three  months.  That  was  the  last  time  he 
ever  saw  Satanta.  He  was  sent  East  after  that  to 
a  military  school.  At  the  time  he  was  crossing  the 
trail  with  me  he  had  only  recently  become  a  col- 
onel in  the  Union  army  and  was  ordered  to  Fort 
Union  to  take  charge  of  some  New  Mexico  troops. 

John  Flournoy  of  Independence,  Missouri,  was 
one  of  the  drivers  on  the  Long  Route.  When  we 
were  at  Fort  Larned,  Colorado,  Leavenworth  in- 
quired of  John  if  he  knew  where  Satanta  or  any 
of  his  tribe  were.  John  told  him  they  were  on  tfie 
Arkansas  river  not  far  from  old  Fort  Dodge. 

We  stopped  at  Big  Coon  Creek  to  get  our  sup- 
per, that  was  twenty-two  miles  from  where  the 
Indians  camped.  (We  only  cooked  twice  a  day, 
supper  was  about  four  o'clock,  then  we  drove  long 
after  nightfall).  After  starting  on  our  journey 
about  five  o'clock,  going  over  the  hills  down  to  the 
Arkansas  river,  we  came  in  sight  of  the  Indian 
camp  which  was  some  ten  miles  distant.  At  this 
camp  there  were  perhaps  thirty  thousand  Indians. 
At  about  nine  o'clock  we  were  within  three  miles 
of  their  camp  and  could  hear  distinctly  the  drums 
beating  and  Indians  singing.  Col.  Leavenworth 
said,  "That  is  a  war  dance,  now  we  must  find  out 
the  cause  of  the  excitement."  There  were  no  roads 
into  the  camp  and  we  couldn't  get  the  mules  to 
venture  any  further  on  account  of  the  scent  of 
green  hides  always  around  an  Indian  camp,  so  Col. 
Leavenworth  Jr.  and  I  got  off  the  coach  and  walked 
in  as  close  as  we  consistently  could.  Soon  we  saw 
an  Indian  boy  and  Col.  Leavenworth  asked  him  in 
Indian  language  what  was  going  on  at  the  big 
camp.  The  boy  told  him  that  the  Kiowas  and  the 


THE   SECOND    WILLIAM   PENN  77 

Pawnees  had  been  at  war  with  each  other  and 
that  two  of  the  Kiowas  had  been  killed  and  one  of 
the  Pawnees.  They  had  secured  the  scalp  of  the 
Pawnee  and  had  fastened  it  to  a  pole,  one  end  of 
which  was  securely  planted  in  the  ground,  and 
were  mourning  around  it  for  their  own  dead.  An 
Indian  thinks  he  is  shamefully  disgraced  if  one  of 
his  tribe  gets  scalped.  They  will  go  right  to  the 
very  mouth  of  a  cannon  to  save  their  tribe  of  such 
disgrace.  Col.  Leavenworth  says,  "I  tell  you,  Bil- 
lie,  I  was  afraid  that  some  of  the  whites  had  been 
disturbing  the  Indians,  but  I  knew  if  I  could  but 
get  word  to  Satanta  we  would  be  safe."  When 
the  boy  told  us  how  matters  really  stood  our  "hair 
lowered"  and  Col.  Leavenworth  asked  the  boy  to 
take  us  to  Satanta's  tent. 

When  we  reached  Satanta's  tent  the  Indian  boy 
went  in  and  told  him  that  a  white  man  wanted  to 
see  him.  The  old  chief  came  out — we  were  about 
twenty  feet  from  the  tent — he  looked  at  Colonel 
Leavenworth  first,  then  at  me,  whom  he  recog- 
nized. He  walked  up  to  within  a  few  feet  of  Col- 
onel Leavenworth,  eyeing  him  sharply.  Colonel 
Leavenworth  spoke  his  name  in  the  Indian  lan- 
guage. Satanta  looked  at  him  amazedly — he  had 
not  seen  him  since  he  had  developed  into  a  man 
and  could  not  realize  that  this  was  the  favored  idol 
of  his  hunting  trip  through  the  Rocky  mountains 
of  Colorado  so  many  years  ago.  After  this  mo- 
ment of  surprise  had  subsided  Satanta  gave  one 
savage  yell  and  leaped  toward  Leavenworth  Jr. 
His  blanket  fell  off  and  he  patted  the  cheek  of  the 
colonel,  kissed  him,  hugged  him,  embraced  him 
again  and  again,  then  turned  and  took  me  by  the 
hand,  grasping  it  firmly.  He  gave  me  a  thrilling 


78 


THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 


illustration  of  his  joy  over  the  return  of  his  old- 
time  boy  friend  which  impressed  me  with  the  sin- 
cerity and  true  instinct  of  the  Indian  attachment 
for  his  friends.  Satanta  called  Col.  Leavenworth 
"ma  chessel." 


"SATANTA." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

Billy  Ryus  and  Col.  Leavenworth  Invade  Camp 
Where  There  Are  30,000  Hostile  Indians. 

When  Col.  Leavenworth  introduced  Satanta  to 
me  he  grinningly  answered  "Si;  all  my  people 
know  this  driver,  for  we  have  drank  coffee  witfi 
him  on  the  plains  before  this  day."  This  was  spo- 
ken in  the  Indian  tongue  and  interpreted  by  Col. 
Leavenworth. 

Satanta  immediately  ordered  some  of  his  young 
warriors  to  go  out  and  herd  our  mules  for  the 
night — he  told  them  to  stake  them  where  they 
could  get  plenty  of  grass  and  put  sufficient  guard 
to  protect  them.  I  told  Satanta  that  we  would 
want  to  start  on  our  journey  by  daylight. 

Leaving  Col.  Leavenworth  with  Satanta  I  re- 
turned to  my  two  coaches  two  and  a  half  miles 
back,  accompanied  by  about  two  hundred  or  more 
young  Indian  lads  and  lassies.  The  drivers  un- 
hitched the  mules  from  the  Concord  coach  and  put 
the  harness  up  on  the  front  boot  of  the  coach.  One 
of  the  Indian  herders  asked  me  if  I  had  some  lari- 
ats. I  told  him  I  did  and  he  got  one  and  tied  it  to 
the  end  of  the  coach  tongue,  then  put  two  lariats 
on  the  tongues  of  each  coach,  leaving  a  string 
about  sixty  feet  long — much  to  the  wonderment  of 
the  passengers — motioned  for  me  to  mount  the 
seat  and  take  up  my  whip.  When  I  did  this  all 
these  young  Indians,  both  boys  and  girls,  laugh- 
ingly took  hold  of  the  lariats  and  started  to  pull 
our  coach  into  camp.  This  occasioned  much  mirth. 
This  was  a  great  sight  for  the  tender-foot.  My 


80 

passengers  declared  it  excelled  any  fiction  they  had 
ever  read.  The  boys  and  girls  pulling  and  push- 
ing the  coaches  went  so  fast  that  I  had  difficulty 
in  keeping  the  little  fellows  from  being  run  over. 
I  applied  the  brakes  several  times. 

When  we  reached  the  camp  the  whole  tribe  be- 
gan such  screeching  that  my  passengers  took  the 
alarm  again.  Satanta  came  out,  looking  very  erect 
and  soldierly,  commanded  the  young  men  to  haul 
our  coach  to  the  front  of  his  lodge  so  we  could  see 
all  that  was  going  on.  Satanta's  next  order  was 
for  the  squaws  to  get  supper.  He  said  to  the  pas- 
sengers, "We  must  eat  together,  lots  of  buffalo 
meat  and  deer."  After  kindling  their  fire  of  buf- 
falo chips  they  soon  had  supper  "a-going."  I  or- 
dered my  drivers  to  take  bread,  coffee  and  canned 
goods  from  our  mess  box  and  we  dined  heartily 
and  substantially. 

At  eleven  o'clock  I  laid  down  in  the  front  of  my 
coach  and  snatched  a  little  sleep.  I  doubt  whether 
the  passengers  took  any  sleep.  I  know  that  Col. 
Leavenworth  and  Satanta  were  talking  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  at  which  time  Satanta 
called  out  his  cooks  and  informed  us  that  we  must 
"eat  again."  We  breakfasted  together.  Just  at 
daybreak  the  Indians  gave  the  whoop  and  the  lit- 
tle fellows  were  on  hand  to  haul  our  coaches  out- 
side the  camp.  They  hitched  our  mules  and  Sa- 
tanta and  the  chiefs  of  the  other  tribes  went  with 
us  about  ten  miles  and  stopped  and  lunched  again., 

These  chiefs  begged  Leavenworth  to  come  back 
to  their  country  and  take  charge  of  the  tribes,  giv- 
ing him  as  their  belief  that  if  he  were  in  charge 
there  would  be  peace.  Satanta  called  his  attention 
to  the  battle  on  the  Nine  Mile  Ridge  as  well  as  to 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  81 

the  massacre  where  they  had  suffered  so  unmerci- 
fully. 

Satanta  told  Col.  Leavenworth  during-  his  ride 
with  us  that  morning  that  for  the  inconvenience 
suffered  by  the  public  the  Indian  was  totally  blame- 
less. At  no  time  did  his  people  make  the  first  at- 
tack on  the  whites  and  take  their  lives,  but  that  in 
approaching  their  caravans  and  asking  for  food 
they  were  shot  down  as  they  had  been  on  the  Nine 
Mile  Ridge.  The  American  soldiers  had  burned 
their  wigwams,  slaughtered  their  decrepit  men, 
women  and  children  and  carried  away  their  pro- 
vision. Satanta  told  Col.  Leavenworth  that  he 
had  heard  of  the  newspapers,  the  press,  and  so  on. 
He  told  him  that  he  knew  that  they  were  for  the 
purpose  of  prejudicing  white  people  against  his 
race.  Satanta  said  that  the  Indians  desired  peace 
as  much  as  did  the  white  man.  Leavenworth  told 
the  old  chief  that  he  regretted  the  loss  of  life,  but 
Satanta  told  him  that  his  regret  was  no  greater 
than  his  regret  for  both  the  Indians  and  the  whites.' 
This  ended  the  conversation  between  these  two 
friends.  After  many  adieus  they  separated,  each 
going  his  own  way. 

***** 

On  our  journey  to  Fort  Lyon  I  casually  men- 
tioned the  name  of  Major  Anthony  (nephew  of 
Governor  George  T.  Anthony,  the  sixth  governor 
of  Kansas).  I  told  him  that  Major  Anthony  was 
very  friendly  toward  the  Indians.  This  is  the  same 
Major  Anthony  who  took  charge  of  the  Indian 
agency  when  Macaulley  was  discharged  so  uncere- 
moniously. I  told  Col.  Leavenworth  that  Major 
Anthony  had  such  a  rare  character  that  if  he  had 
his  way  about  it  there  would  be  no  war. 


82  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

Colonel  Leavenworth  Jr.  asked  me  to  introduce 
him  to  Major  Anthony  when  we  reached  Fort 
Lyon,  which  I  did.  Major  Anthony  asked  me  if  I 
would  wait  a  couple  of  hours  so  he  and  Colonel 
Leavenworth  could  talk  over  Indian  matters  a 
while  before  we  proceeded  to  Bent's  Old  Fort, 
forty  miles  south  of  Fort  Lyon. 

After  we  started  on  our  route  Colonel  Leaven- 
worth remarked  about  the  rains  which  had  been 
falling.  I  told  him  I  was  afraid  we  would  experi- 
ence some  difficulty  in  crossing  the  Arkansas 
river.  Sure  enough  when  we  reached  there  the 
river  was  a  seething  mass  of  turbulent  waters,  but 
we  succeeded  in  crossing  safely  at  Bent's  Old  Fort. 
Then  we  had  eighty  miles  to  go  before  we  struck 
the  foothills  of  the  Raton  mountains,  fording  the 
Picketwaire  river  at  the  little  town  of  Trinidad, 
Colorado,  over  the  Raton  mountains.  In  going 
up  the  mountain  we  crossed  the  creek  twenty-six 
times. 

On  this  route  was  a  place  known  to  the  train 
men  as  "The  Devil's  Gate."  This  was  a  very  large 
rock  extending  out  over  the  road  running  close  to 
the  creek  with  a  precipice  below.  We  had  to  use 
great  care  and  precaution  in  handling  our  mules 
around  this  rock  to  take  the  road.  We  saw  sev- 
eral broken  wagons  at  this  point  where  several 
freighters  had  been  doomed  to  bad  luck. 

We  ascended  the  mountains  to  the  foot  where 
were  the  headwaters  of  the  Red  river,  four  miles 
from  the  Red  river  station  of  the  stage  company, 
thence  to  Fort  Union,  where  I  delivered  Colonel 
Leavenworth.  That  was  the  last  time  I  ever  saw 
him. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A   "Trifling   Incident" — Billy   Ryus   Runs   Risks 
With  Government  Property. 

Six  months  after  my  visit  to  the  camp  of  Sa- 
tanta  a  trifling  incident  comes  to  my  mind.  Cross- 
ing Red  river  which  was  considerably  swollen  due 
to  the  heavy  thaws — the  river  at  this  point  was 
only  about  nine  feet  across  and  about  two  and  a 
half  feet  deep — but  it  was  a  treacherous  place  be- 
cause it  was  so  mirey.  It  stuck  many  freight 
wagons — I  was  in  a  quandary  just  how  I  would 
cross  it.  After  climbing  down  off  of  the  coach, 
looking  around  for  an  escape  (?),  a  happy  idea 
possessed  me.  I  was  carrying  four  sacks  of  patent 
office  books  which  would  weigh  about  240  pounds 
a  sack,  the  sacks  were  eighteen  inches  square  by 
four  and  a  half  feet  long,  so  I  concluded  to  use 
these  books  to  make  an  impromptu  bridge.  I  cut 
the  ice  open  for  twenty  inches,  wide  enough  to  fit 
the  tracks  of  the  coach  for  the  wheels  to  run  on, 
then  placed  four  of  these  sacks  of  books  in  the 
water  and  drove  my  mules  across  Red  River.  I 
was  fully  aware  that  the  books  were  government 
property,  but  from  past  experience  I  knew  they 
would  never  be  put  to  use. 

People  all  along  the  route  were  mad  because 
the  stage  company  charged  $200  for  a  passage 
from  Kansas  City  to  Santa  Fe  and  knowing  that 
we  were  compelled  to  haul  the  government  mail, 
heavy  or  light,  in  the  way  or  out  of  it,  and  desiring 
to  "put  us  to  it,"  kept  ordering  these  books  sent 
them.  They  never  took  one  of  them  from  the 


84  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

postoffice,  hence  the  accumulation  in  the  post- 
office  grew  until  there  was  room  for  little  else. 
These  books  were  surveys  and  agricultural  reports. 
Unreadable  to  say  the  least,  but  heavy  in  the  ex- 
treme. The  postoffice  at  Santa  Fe  was  a  little  bit 
of  a  concern,  and  the  postmaster  said  there  was  no 
room  for  the  books  there.  Earlier  in  the  year  I 
had  carried  one  of  these  sacks  to  the  postoffice 
and  had  attempted  to  get  the  postmaster  to  accept 
them  as  mail.  I  told  him  that  it  was  mail  and  that 
I  had  no  other  place  to  deposit  it.  Nevertheless 
he  said  he  would  not  have  them  left  at  the  post- 
office  and  told  me  to  do  anything  I  wanted  to  with 
them,  saying  at  the  time  that  people  all  around 
there  had  a  mania  for  ordering  those  books,  but 
never  intended  to  take  them  when  they  ordered 
them.  I  took  the  books  around  to  the  stage  sta- 
tion and  discovered  four  wagonloads  of  the  "gov- 
ernment stuff." 

At  the  time  I  placed  the  books  in  Red  river  I 
knew  that  the  postmaster  would  not  let  them  be 
left  there  and  I  knew  they  might  serve  the  gov- 
ernment better  in  a  "bridge"  than  otherwise. 
Knowing  this  I  felt  that  I  had  a  remedy  at  law 
and  grounds  for  defense. 

The  four  passengers  with  me  "jawed"  me  quite 
enough  to  "extract"  the  patience  of  an  ancient  Job 
for  having  treated  government  property  to  a 
watery  burial  in  Red  river.  Two  of  the  passengers 
were  Mexicans  and  two  other  men  from  New  York. 
However,  the  two  Mexicans  soon  disgusted  the 
other  two  passengers,  who  took  sides  with  me. 
The  Mexicans  said  they  would  report  me  to  the 
government,  and  I  had  no  doubt  they  would. 

As  soon  as  I  got  to  Santa  Fe  I  went  to  see  Gen- 


THE  SECOND  WILLIAM   £ENN  85 

eral  Harney,  ex-governor  of  New  Mexico.  I  told 
him  what  I  had  done  and  why  I  did  it.  General 
Harney  told  me  he  was  glad  I  had  notified  him 
right  away  and  said  he  would  explain  this  trans- 
portation of  the  patent  office  books  to  the  fourth 
assistant  postmaster.  I  gave  him  a  detailed  ac- 
count of  my  conversation  regarding  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  books  to  the  postmaster  the  trip  before, 
which  conversation  he  put  in  the  form  of  an  affi- 
davit and  took  it  to  the  postmaster  to  verify.  The 
postmaster  refused  to  sign  the  document,  saying 
that  he  was  no  such  a  fool  as  that.  General  Har- 
ney reported  to  the  government  who  ordered  the 
postmaster  to  rent  a  room  in  which  to  store  the 
government  books  now  in  possession  of  the  stage 
company.  I  knew  that  the  postmaster  was  going 
to  get  these  orders,  so  I  told  Mr.  Parker,  propri- 
etor of  the  hotel  (called  in  those  days  the  "Fonda") 
that  he  could  rent  the  room  to  the  postmaster  for 
$15  per  month.  He  would  draw  $45  per  quarter 
and  net  the  stage  company  $30.  We  conductors 
made  the  drivers  haul  all  the  books  over  to  the 
postoffice,  and  when  we  had  put  all  inside  that  we 
could  get  in  there,  obstructing  the  light  from  the 
one  solitary  window,  we  put  several  thousand  up 
on  top  of  the  postoffice.  Everybody  was  looking 
at  us  and  everybody  else  was  laughing. 

In  a  squealy  little  old  voice  the  postmaster  came 
out  and  told  us  to  take  them  to  "Parker's  Fonda," 
that  he  had  rented  the  room  for  the  storage  of 
such  trash.  Thus  it  came  that  the  books  were 
placed  back  in  the  same  room  in  which  they  were 
formerly  stored,  but  they  were  now  paying  the 
stage  company  rent  for  "their  berths"  and  contin- 


86  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

ued  three  years  to  net  the  stage  company  $10  per 
month. 

This  transaction  caused  the  government  to  quit 
printing  these  books.  The  governor  sent  direc- 
tions to  the  Santa  Fe  Stage  Company  at  Kansas 
City  that  should  more  such  books  accumulate  they 
might  be  delivered  by  freight.  There  were  no 
more  sent. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

Tom  Barnum  Muses  Over  the  Position  the  Gov- 
ernment Will  Take  in  Regard  to  the  Bed  of 
Red  River  Being  Suitable  Resting 
Place  for  the  U.  S.  Mail. 

After  having  deposited  the  patent  office  reports 
in  their  watery  grave  in  Red  river  I  met  and  had  an 
interview  with  Tom  Barnum,  one  of  the  owners 
of  the  stage  line.  "Billie,  you  devil,"  were  his  first 
words  to  me,  "been  puttin'  the  mail  in  the  river, 
be  ye?"  I  answered,  "Yes,  sir."  "Well,"  Barnum 
said,  "didn't  you  take  some  pretty  risky  chances 
when  you  did  this — are  you  sure  you  won't  get  us 
into  some  serious  trouble?"  I  told  him  that  I  be- 
lieved that  I  had  just  saved  his  company  not  less 
than  $5000  by  "dumping"  that  bulky  trash.  I  told 
him  that  the  company  had  made  complaints  to  the 
government  about  sending  the  reports  into  New 
Mexico  and  that  the  Postmaster  General  had  not 
given  us  the  consideration  we  deserved  and  the 
postmasters  had  also  refused  their  acceptance  after 
we  had  "carted"  them  to  destination.  It's  my  firm 
belief  that  in  using  the  books  in  the  manner  I  did 
they  served  the  United  States  better  than  they 
could  have  done  any  other  way.  I  told  Mr.  Bar- 
num how  ex-Governor  Harney  had  befriended  me 
in  the  matter  and  that  I  felt  safe  to  say  that  no 
bad  effects  could  grow  out  of  my  conduct. 

This  pacified  Tom  Barnum  and  I  told  him  that 
I  wanted  his  company  to  give  me  credit  for  half 
the  money  I  had  saved  them  on  this  book  hauling 
business  on  the  day  of  settlement.  I  also  told  him 


88  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

that  I  had  promised  to  "deadhead"  ex-Governor 
Harney  and  family  (consisting  at  that  time  of  wife 
and  one  child,  a  daughter  fifteen  years  old)  to  the 
states  and  when  they  arrived  in  Kansas  City,  Mis- 
souri, he  was  to  see  that  they  got  a  pass  over  the 
road  to  New  York  City.  Barnum  wheezed  out  a 
little  laugh  and  an  exclamation  that  sounded  like 
"h — 1,"  but  finished  good  naturedly  by  telling  me 
that  he  would  do  it.  As  our  conversation  length- 
ened he  said,  "Billy,  been  thinking  over  this  dead- 
headin'  business  of  yourn, — Billy,"  again  said  Mr. 
Barnum,  "you're  an  accommodatin'  devil.  I  be- 
lieve if  the  whole  Santa  Fe  population  would  jump 
you  for  a  'free  ride'  to  Kansas  City  you  would  give 
it  to  'em  and  our  company  would  put  on  extra 
stages  for  their  benefit.  It  don't  seem  to  make  any 
difference  to  you  what  the  company's  orders  are, 
you  do  things  to  suit  your  own  little  self,  'y  bob!" 
Barnum  went  on  musing,  but  I  kept  feeling  of  my 
ground  and  found  I  was  still  on  "terra  firma." 
"Well,"  says  I,  "don't  forget  all  those  little  points 
on  the  day  of  settlement,  especially  what  I  have 
saved  on  the  book  business  in  the  way  of  'cartage' 
and  'storage.' '  I  told  him  that  I  might  want  to 
feather  a  nest  some  time  for  a  nice  little  mate  and 
cunning  little  birdies.  This  conversation  took 
place  at  Bent's  Old  Fort.  My  next  conversation 
with  him  took  place  in  Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

'*"*  """"i 

Tom  Barnum  Takes  Smallpox.    I  Visit  My  Home. 

Dr.  Hopkins  Gets  Broken  Window,  a 

Quarter,  and  the  111  Will  of 

the  Stage  Company. 

During  the  year  of  1863  I  took  a  notion  to  "lay 
off"  and  go  home  on  a  visit.  Tom  Barnum,  one  of 
the  owners  of  the  road,  was  at  Santa  Fe  at  that 
time  and  was  to  be  one  of  the  passengers  into  Kan- 
sas City.  I  met  Mr.  Barnum  in  the  "fonda"  and 
he  told  me  he  was  sick,  remarking  that  he  wished 
he  would  take  the  smallpox.  I  told  him  he  would 
not  want  to  have  it  more  than  once.  "Well,"  said 
he,  "if  I  took  the  smallpox  it  would  either  cure  me 
of  this  blamed  consumption  or  kill  me."  I  told  him 
that  he  wasn't  ready  to  "kick  the  bucket"  yet,  for 
the  boys  needed  him  in  Kansas  City. 

Mr.  Barnum  had  been  exposed  to  the  smallpox 
but  was  not  aware  of  it,  so  we  started  to  Kansas 
City.  When  we  arrived  in  Kansas  City  we  went 
to  the  old  Gillis  hotel,  the  headquarters  for  all  the 
stage  company's  employees.  When  the  doctor 
came  he  told  him  that  he  had  the  smallpox,  but 
that  he  need  call  no  one's  attention  to  it  until  he 
had  given  him  leave.  The  doctor  fixed  up  a  bed 
in  the  attic,  tore  a  glass  out  of  the  window  and 
took  every  precaution  to  keep  the  pestilence  from 
spreading  through  the  house.  The  doctor  took 
Tom  Barnum  up  in  the  attic,  placed  plenty  of 
water  within  his  reach  and  put  a  negro  to  mind 
him.  Then  the  doctor  went  to  the  office  and  told 
Dr.  Hopkins  that  Barnum  had  the  smallpox  and 


90  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

was  up  in  the  attic.  He  said  to  the  hotelkeeper  that 
there  was  no  need  of  announcing  it  to  the  board- 
ers, but  Dr.  Hopkins  said  he  would  do  it  anyway, 
and  for  him  to  get  Barnum  out  of  the  house  and 
to  a  hospital,  that  he  would  ruin  him.  That  night 
Dr.  Hopkins  announced  to  his  guests  that  Barnum 
was  there  with  the  smallpox.  Sixteen  of  his  board- 
ers left  "post  haste,"  but  the  house  filled  up  again 
before  night  in  spite  of  the  smallpox  sign.  At  that 
time,  in  the  year  of  1863,  the  Gillis  house  run  by 
Dr.  Hopkins  was  the  only  large  house  in  Kansas 
City  in  use.  There  was  a  new  building,  the  "Bra- 
vadere,"  up  on  the  hill  from  the  levee,  but  it  had 
not  been  furnished. 

When  Barnum  got  over  the  smallpox  he  took 
the  bed  out  the  window  and  burned  it,  together 
with  everything  else  in  the  room,  and  thoroughly 
fumigated  the  premises. 

With  a  face  all  scarred  with  smallpox  he  then 
went  down  to  the  office  and  told  the  proprietor 
of  the  hotel  what  he  had  done  with  the  furniture, 
bedding,  etc.,  that  he  had  used  while  he  was  sick. 
He  told  Dr.  Hopkins  that  he  wanted  to  pay  him 
for  the  damage  and  asked  him  what  price  he 
should  pay  for  the  furniture  he  had  burned.  Hop- 
kins told  him  he  supposed  $50  would  cover  it.  Then 
he  asked  him  how  much  he  had  damaged  his  house. 
Hopkins  again  replied  that  he  injured  him  about 
$50.  "All  right,"  said  Tom  Barnum,  "I'll  pay  it, 
but  let  me  ask  you  how  many  boarders  left  you 
when  they  heard  I  was  sick  in  the  attic  with  the 
smallpox."  Mr.  Hopkins  told  him  they  all  left. 
"So  I  understand,  Mr.  Hopkins,  but  will  you  tell 
me  how  many  came  in  before  night — how  many 
empty  beds  did  you  have  while  I  lay  ill  with  small- 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  91 

pox?"  Hopkins  was  hedging,  but  he  had  to  an- 
swer that  all  his  beds  were  full;  that  he  had  no 
room  for  more  than  came,  but  he  said  he  felt  sure 
that  his  house  had  been  injured  at  least  $50. 
Finally  Tom  Barnum  happened  to  think  of  the 
window  pane  he  had  left  out  of  his  inventory  ot 
materials  destroyed  and  mentioned  it.  Greatly  to 
Barnum's  disgust  Hopkins  scratched  his  head  and 
replied  that  he  guessed  that  a  quarter  would  cover 
the  damage  to  the  window. 

When  this  conversation  was  over  and  Barnum 
had  paid  for  all  the  "smallpox  damage"  he  said, 
"Now,  Hopkins,  figure  up  what  our  company  owes 
you;  I  want  to  pay  it,  too."  "No,"  said  Hopkins, 
"I  haven't  time  now,  I  always  make  out  my  bills 
the  first  of  the  month."  "Well,"  said  Barnum, 
"you  figure  our  bill  up  right  now  and  do  not  in- 
clude dinner  for  any  of  us,  for  we  are  leaving  you 
right  now,  and  will  never  bring  a  customer  to  this 
house  again  and  never  come  here  to  get  a  passen- 
ger nor  any  one's  baggage.  In  fact,  our  teams  will 
never  come  down  the  hill  again  to  this  house,  we're 
quittin'." 

The  smallpox  had  left  old  Barnum  pretty  weak 
physically,  but  had  evidently  not  weakened  his  will. 
He  left  Hopkins  in  the  office  figuring  up  his  ac- 
count and  he  jumped  a-straddle  of  a  bare-backed 
mule  and  went  up  on  the  hill  and  rented  the  new 
40-room  house,  "The  Bravadere,"  and  sub-rented 
enough  rooms  to  pay  the  expenses  of  his  company. 
He  also  got  a  porter,  bus  and  team  and  sent  to  the 
landing  to  meet  every  steam  boat  to  carry  passen- 
gers and  their  baggage  free  of  charge  to  his  "new 
hotel"  on  the  hill.  This  new  hotel  got  to  be  all  the 
rage,  and  the  old  levee  hotel  in  the  bottoms  was 


92 


THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 


doomed  to  be  a  "thing  of  the  past."  The  old  Gillis 
hotel  on  the  levee  was  bought  in  by  the  Peet  Soap 
Factory.  The  old  "Bravadere"  still  stands  in  Kan- 
sas City,  but  boasts  a  new  brick  front. 


'UNCLE"  DICK  WOOTEN. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

Uncle  Dick  Wooten  Erects  a  Toll  Gate.     Major 

Pendelton  Carries  Cash  in  Coach  to  Pay 

Troops. 

In  August  of  1864  the  scenery  along  the  route 
from  Kansas  City,  Missouri,  to  Santa  Fe,  New 
Mexico,  was  grand.  Kansas  City  at  that  time  was 
a  very  small  place.  Its  inhabitants  may  have  num- 
bered two  or  three  thousand.  Santa  Fe  with  its 
narrow  streets  looking  like  alleys  was  built  mostly 
of  doby  (mud  bricks).  Crowded  up  against  the 
mountains,  at  the  end  of  a  little  valley,  through 
which  runs  a  tributary  to  the  Rio  Grande,  boasted 
of  healthful  climate.  Santa  Fe  had  a  public  square 
in  the  center,  a  house  known  as  "the  Palace." 
There  were  numerous  gambling  houses  there  and 
these  gambling  houses  were  considered  as  respect- 
able as  the  merchants'  store  houses.  The  business 
of  the  place  was  considerable,  many  of  the  mer- 
chants being  wholesale  dealers  for  the  vast  terri- 
tory tributary.  In  the  money  market  there  were 
no  pennies, — nothing  less  than  five-cent  pieces. 
The  old  palace  about  which  I  have  called  your  at- 
tention is  an  old  land  mark  of  Santa  Fe  and  is  to 
Santa  Fe  what  "The  Alamo"  is  to  Texas.  The 
postoffice  at  that  time  was  a  small  building,  14x24, 
with  a  partition  in  the  center.  It  was  one-story 
with  a  dirt  roof,  as  were  all  the  houses  of  that  old 
Spanish  city  at  the  time  my  narrative  opens. 

On  my  first  trip  from  Santa  Fe  to  Kansas  City 
in  1864  there  was  little  to  note  except  that  when  I 
got  up  on  the  Raton  mountain  about  thirty  miles 


94  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

from  Trinidad,  Colorado,  Uncle  Dick  Wooten  had 
aj  large  force  of  Mexicans  building  a  toll  road. 
Originally  the  road  was  almost  impassable.  Sad- 
dle horses  and  pack  mules  could  get  over  the  nar- 
row rock-ribbed  pass  and  around  what  was  known 
as  the  "devil's  gate,"  but  it  was  next  to  impossible 
for  the  stages  and  other  caravans  to  get  to  Trini- 
dad. This  was  the  natural  highway  to  southwest- 
ern Colorado  and  northwestern  New  Mexico. 
Uncle  Dick  was  a  man  of  considerable  forethought 
and  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  might  make  some 
money  if  he  bought  a  few  pounds  of  dynamite  and 
blasted  the  rock  at  "the  Devil's  Gate"  and  hewed 
out  a  good  road,  which,  barring  grades,  should  be 
as  good  as  the  average  turnpike.  He  expected  of 
course  to  keep  the  roads  in  good  repair  at  his  own 
expense  and  succeeded  in  getting  the  legislatures 
of  Colorado  and  New  Mexico  to  grant  him  a  char- 
ter covering  the  rights  and  privileges  of  his  pro- 
jected toll  road  or  turnpike. 

In  the  spring  of  1865  Uncle  Tom  built  him  a 
tolerably  pretentious  home  on  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tains— the  house  on  one  side  of  the  road  and  the 
stables  on  the  other  and  swung  a  gate  across  the 
road  from  the  house  to  the  stables.  I  believe  some 
historians  say  that  Uncle  Dick  Wooten  continued 
to  live  at  this  place  until  the  year  of  1895,  the  date 
of  his  death.  But  as  to  the  veracity  of  this  asser- 
tion I  will  not  vouch. 

The  building  of  this  road  with  great  hillsides  to 
cut  out,  ledges  of  rock  to  blast  out  and  to  build 
dozens  of  bridges  across  the  mountain  streams, 
difficult  gradings,  etc.,  was  no  easy  task.  Neither 
was  it  an  easy  task  to  collect  toll  from  all  the  trav- 
elers. People  from  the  states  understood  that  they 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  95 

must  pay  toll  for  the  privilege  of  traveling  over  a 
road  that  had  been  built  at  the  cost  of  time  and 
money,  but  there  were  other  people  who  thought 
they  should  be  as  free  to  travel  over  Uncle  Dick's, 
well-graded  roadway  as  they  were  to  follow  the 
"pig  paths"  through  the  forest. 

He  had  no  trouble  to  collect  tolls  from  the  stage 
company,  the  military  authorities  and  American 
freighters,  nor  did  he  experience  trouble  with  the 
Indians  who  pass  that  way.  However,  the  Indians 
who  did  not  understand  the  matter  of  toll  gener- 
ally seemed  to  see  the  consistency  of  reimbursing 
the  man  who  had  made  the  road,  and  the  chief  oi 
a  band  would  usually  think  it  in  order  to  make  him 
a  present  of  a  buckskin  or  buffalo  hide  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort.  The  Mexicans,  however,  held 
different  views.  They  were  of  course  pleased  with 
the  road  and  liked  to  travel  over  it,  but  that  toll 
gate  was  as  "a  dash  of  cold  water  in  their  faces." 
They  called  it  Dick  Wooten's  highway  robbery 
scheme. 

After  Uncle  Dick's  road  was  completed  and  the 
stage  coaches  began  to  travel  over  it  his  house  was 
turned  into  a  stage  station  and  you  can  guess  that 
Uncle  Dick  Wooten  had  many  a  stage  story  to  re- 
late to  the  "tenderfoot"  who  chose  his  house  to 
order  a  meal  or  sleep  in  his  beds. 

Kit  Carson  was  one  of  the  lifelong  friends  of 
Uncle  Dick  and  two  men  for  whom  I  have  great 
respect.  They  were  both  friends  to  the  Indians 
and  both  have  told  me  that  they  would  never  kill 
an  Indian.  The  Arapahoes  knew  Uncle  Dick 
Wooten  as  "Cut  Hand"  from  the  fact  that  he  had 
two  fingers  missing  on  his  left  hand.  This  tribe 
had  a  great  veneration  for  the  keeper  of  the  toll- 


96  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

gate,  and  he  was  perfectly  safe  at  any  time  in  their 
villages  and  camps.  One  of  the  dying  chiefs  made 
as  a  dying  request,  that  although  the  nation  be  at 
war  with  all  the  whites  in  the  world,  his  warriors 
were  never  to  injure  "Cut  Hand,"  but  to  assist  him 
in  whatever  way  they  could  if  he  needed  them. 
Unc.le  Dick  Wooten's  Christian  name  was  "Richen 
Lacy  Wooten"  and  lived  at  Independence,  Mis- 
souri, before  venturing  to  the  frontier. 

Before  I  leave  Uncle  Dick  to  go  on  to  another 
journey  across  the  Old  Santa  Fe  Trail  I  will  relate 
the  story  of  the  death  of  Espinosa — Don  Espinosa. 
The  Mexican  aristocracy  are  called  "Dons,"  claim- 
ing descent  from  the  nobles  of  Cortez'  army.  We 
will  see  how  cleverly  Uncle  Dick  won  the  reward 
of  $1000  offered  by  the  governor  of  Colorado  for 
the  life  of  the  bandit,  dead  or  alive. 

Espinosa  living  with  his  beautiful  sister  in  his 
isolated  farm  house  among  his  vast  herds  of  cattle, 
sheep,  goats  and  other  animals  lived  a  life  of  lux- 
ury. There  was  a  government  contractor  living 
in  his  vicinity  buying  beef  cattle  for  the  consump- 
tion of  the  soldiers.  Espinosa  came  to  believe  that 
he  was  losing  beef  steers  and  thought  that  the  con- 
tractor was  getting  them,  and  when  this  contractor 
was  shot  and  killed  by  an  unknown  at  Fort  Gar- 
land it  was  generally  supposed  that  Espinosa  had 
murdered  him. 

I  have  heard  there  was  a  very  rich  American  liv- 
ing at  the  home  of  Espinosa  and  that  he  was 
enamored  by  the  bewitching  beauty  of  the  dark- 
eyed  sister  of  Espinosa  and  they  were  engaged  to 
be  married.  The  American  had  told  Espinosa  that 
he  possessed  considerable  money,  etc.,  and  one 
night  after  the  American  had  gone  to  bed  he  was 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  97 

awakened  by  a  man  feeling  under  his  pillow  for 
the  purpose  of  robbery,  and  shot  at  the  intruder, 
who  was  no  other  than  the  treacherous  Espinosa. 
When  Espinosa  found  that  he  was  "caught  in  the 
act"  he  killed  the  American  with  a  dirk.  His  sister 
cursed  him  for  having  killed  her  lover,  the  only 
child  of  a  rich  New  Englander.  This  deed  is  said 
to  have  stimulated  in  Espanosi  a  desire  to  reap  in 
the  golden  eagles  faster  and  faster,  so  he  deter- 
mined to  become  a  bandit,  a  robber.  Several 
Denver  men  met  death  along  near  the  home  of 
the  famous  Espinosa  and  the  governor  accord- 
ingly offered  a  reward  of  $1000  for  his  body,  dead 
or  alive. 

After  this  reward  was  offered  I  was  passing 
through  Dick  Wooten's  toll  gate  on  my  way  to 
Santa  Fe  and  one  of  my  passengers  had  a  copy  of 
the  Denver  Times  in  which  he  read  of  the  reward 
out  for  Espinosa  in  the  presence  of  Uncle  Dick. 
Uncle  Dick  fairly  groaned  with  satisfaction  and 
made  this  reply,  "I  will  get  that  man  before  many 
suns  pass  over  his  head." 

About  two  weeks  later  Wooten  was  hunting  and 
he  heard  a  shot  ring  out  on  the  air,  and  decided  he 
would  go  in  the  direction  of  the  shot  and  see  what 
was  up.  He  got  on  his  stomach  with  his  rifle  fixed 
so  he  could  shoot  any  hostile  intruder  and  stealth- 
fully  crawled  up  to  within  a  few  yards  of  where 
he  had  discovered  a  small  camp  smoke.  There  he 
espied  Espinosa  in  company  with  a  small  twelve- 
year-old  boy,  ripping  the  hind  quarter  out  of  a  beef 
steer  he  had  killed.  Wooten  kept  watching  and 
crawling  nearer — Espinosa  unsuspicious  of  the 
watch  of  the  old  trapper,  prepared  to  cook  his  sup- 
per and  had  beef  already  over  the  fire  cooking,  an- 
swering the  many  questions  of  the  hungry  lad  near 


98  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

him,  when  Wooten,  getting  a  sight  on  him,  sent 
out  a  shot  that  ended  the  life  of  the  fearless  and 
revengeful  Mexican  bandit,  the  terror  of  the  Mexi- 
can and  Colorado  border,  Espinosa. 

The  boy  hid  under  a  log,  but  after  being  assured 
by  Wooten  that  he  would  not  be  harmed  came  out 
and  answered  Uncle  Dick  Wooten's  inquiries.  The 
child  said  he  was  a  nephew  of  Espinosa.  When 
asked  what  the  notches  on  the  gun  of  the  bandit 
denoted,  he  told  him  they  denoted  the  number  of 
men  killed  by  his  uncle,  for  whose  life  he  had  paid 
the  forfeit  by  his  own  at  the  hands  of  Dick  Wooten, 
the  famous  trapper  of  the  Rocky  mountains  and 
keeper  of  the  toll-gate  of  the  Santa  Fe  Trail. 

Uncle  Dick,  a  kind-hearted  old  fogie,  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  he  had  just  killed  a  bandit,  gently 
pacified  the  little  lad  and  finished  cooking  the  sup- 
per. When  it  was  all  ready  they  both  ate  raven- 
ously of  the  beef,  bread  and  coffee;  then  Uncle 
Dick  cut  off  the  head  of  Espinosa  and  placed  it  in 
a  gunny  sack,  took  the  rifle  of  the  beheaded  rob- 
ber and  placed  the  little  boy  on  his  horse  behind 
him  and  started  for  the  toll-gate;  from  there  they 
went  to  Denver  and  collected  the  ransom.  Besides 
the  $1000  reward  for  the  potentate  of  the  Rocky 
mountains  which  Uncle  Dick  received,  he  was  also 
the  recipient  of  a  very  fine  rifle,  mounted  in  gold 
and  silver,  and  a  small  diamond.  This  rifle  was 
said  to  be  worth  $250.  Uncle  Dick  showed  the 
"fire-arm"  to  me  and  I  considered  it  a  very  beauti- 
ful instrument  of  its  kind.  Old  Uncle  Dick  proudly 
invited  inspection  of  his  beautiful  "fire-arm,"  but 
woe  to  the  man  who  criticised  its  wonderful 
mechanism.  I  do  not  know  of  Espinosa's  being 
on  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  but  twice  during  my  travels. 


THE    SECOND    WILLIAM    PENN  99 

The  drivers  used  to  have  lots  of  fun  with  the 
passengers  and  after  we  left  Trinidad  they  would 
solemnly  warn  the  passengers  to  examine  their 
Winchesters  and  revolvers,  that  it  was  not  un- 
likely that  we  would  be  accosted  by  some  of  the 
gang  of  the  Espinosa's  robbers,  and  tell  them  that 
the  Texas  Rangers  would  often  hide  in  the  moun- 
tains and  extract  money  and  other  valuables  from 
the  passengers  crossing  over  to  the  states. 

Uncle  Dick  Wooten's  wife  was  a  Mexican  and 
they  had  a  very  beautiful  daughter  who  married 
Brigham  Young.  However,  this  Brigham  was  not 
the  great  Brigham  of  Utah  and  Salt  Lake  fame. 
He  was  only  an  employee  of  the  stage  company  in 
charge  of  the  stage  station  at  Iron  Springs,  about 
half  way  between  Bent's  Old  Fort  and  Trinidad. 
This  station  was  situated  in  a  grove  of  pinyon  trees 
and  other  fine  timber  and  infested  by  mountain 
bear.  Sometimes  if  we  were  passing  along  in  the 
night  the  mules  would  smell  the  bear  and  become 
unmanageable. 

One  time  I  had  a  passenger,  Joe  Cummins,  a 
marshal  of  New  Mexico,  en  route  to  Washington 
to  get  extradition  papers  for  a  man  who  had  run 
away  to  Canada,  Joe  was  as  full  of  mischief  as  a 
"young  mule."  I  had  three  other  passengers  and 
Joe  Cummins  kept  them  laughing  all  the  way  into 
Bent's  Old  Fort,  the  junction  of  the  Denver  road 
There  we  were  met  by  Major  Pendleton  and  his 
clerk.  Major  Pendleton  was  paymaster  of  the 
Union  army  on  their  way  to  Fort  Lyon,  Fort 
Larned  and  Fort  Zara  to  pay  off  the  soldiers.  He 
rode  with  me  to  Fort  Lyon  and  from  there  he  either 
had  to  go  with  me  by  stage  or  take  a  Government 


100  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

conveyance,  i.  e.  the  militia,  which  would  take  him 
eight  or  ten  days.  He  decided  to  go  with  me  if  I 
would  agree  to  wait  for  him  until  he  paid  off  the 
soldiers  at  Fort  Lyon  and  get  an  escort  of  soldiers. 
He  said  he  had  $96,000.  He  gave  me  his  package 
containing  the  $96,000  to  put  in  the  company's 
safe.  I  was  busy  with  my  coach  at  the  time  he 
handed  me  the  package  and  I  laid  it  down  by  the 
front  wheel.  A  few  minutes  later  he  discovered 
the  package  on  the  ground  by  the  wheel  of  the 
coach  and  picked  it  up  and  told  me  he  would  like 
for  me  to  take  care  of  it.  I  told  him  I  would  attend 
to  it  as  soon  as  I  got  loaded — we  were  fitting  up 
two  coaches  with  mail  and  baggage  to  cross  the 
Long  Route  and  I  would  soon  be  loaded,  and  I 
laid  the  package  down  again.  Pretty  soon  the 
major  came  around  and  picked  up  the  treasured 
package  and  quite  sternly  asked  me,  "Are  you  go- 
ing to  take  care  of  this?"  The  third  time  he  en- 
trusted it  to  me,  at  which  time  I  asked  him  to  come 
to  the  office  of  the  stage  company  with  me.  When 
I  got  there  I  drew  an  express  receipt,  signed  and 
handed  it  to  him,  stating  that  it  would  take  $400 
to  express  it.  By  paying  that  amount  I  told  him 
that  I  would  place  it  in  the  safe.  "Oh!"  he  said, 
"the  government  would  not  allow  me  to  pay  ex- 
press." I  handed  it  back  to  him  and  told  him  that 
the  government  then  would  have  to  be  responsible 
for  it,  not  the  stage  company.  Then  the  major 
said  he  would  order  a  strong  escort  to  go  with  us 
across  the  long  route.  I  told  him  that  if  he  rode 
with  me  he  would  do  nothing  of  the  sort,  that  if 
an  escort  went  with  me  I  was  the  man  to  order  it, 
then  they  would  be  under  me  and  travel  with  the 
same  s>peed  I  traveled.  I  told  him  if  he  ordered 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  101 

the  escort  he  would  have  to  stay  with  them,  so  the 
major  told  me  to  "fire  away."  I  went  to  Major 
Anthony  and  told  him  that  I  thought  twenty  men 
would  be  sufficient,  but  that  the  old  paymaster 
wanted  thirty-five  men,  so  I  yielded  to  him  in  this, 
and  with  thirty-five  soldiers  we  started.  At  day- 
light the  next  morning  I  yelled  "All  aboard,"  and 
the  lieutenant  in  charge  of  the  escort,  who  was  a 
regular  army  officer,  told  his  cook  to  get  break- 
fast. I  told  the  lieutenant  that  we  always  made  a 
drive  of  from  ten  to  fifteen  miles  before  we  break- 
fasted. He  said  he  wouldn't  do  it,  that  the  regula- 
tions of  the  army  were  to  make  two  drives  a  day 
and  not  over  thirty  miles  without  food.  The  lieu- 
tenant said  he  wouldn't  drive  the  way  I  wanted 
him  to  and  they  would  have  breakfast  before  they 
started.  I  told  him  "All  right,  stay  and  have  your 
breakfast,  I  don't  object,  but  then  go  back  to  Fort 
Lyon."  I  did  not  need  an  escort  unless  they  com- 
plied with  my  orders.  I  had  orders  from  my  head- 
quarters and  they  were  supposed  to  be  at  "my 
service"  as  escort  of  the  mail  and  express.  Well, 
Major  Pendelton  was  in  a  "pickle" — it  was  a  pre- 
dicament he  did  not  know  how  to  get  out  of.  He 
wanted  to  get  through  as  soon  as  possible  and 
knew  that  if  he  went  back  with  the  Lieutenant, 
he  would  be  delayed.  He  thought  he  had  too  much 
money  to  be  left  with  me  without  the  escort.  He 
remembered  Major  Anthony's  words  to  him  before 
we  left  the  fort.  Major  Anthony  had  told  him, 
"you  are  safe  in  Billy's  coach,  he  never  has  trouble 
with  Indians."  However,  while  Pendelton  pond- 
ered, Joe  Cummins  thought  he  would  fix  matters 
with  the  Lieutenant  and  took  him  to  one  side  and 
told  him  that  he  was  under  the  orders  of  the  con- 


102 

ductor  of  the  Government  Mail  and  Express,  that 
I  was  in  the  service  of  the  United  States  Mail  and 
that  my  orders  would  supercede  any  orders  about 
traveling.  Mr.  Cummings  told  him  that  I  would 
make  my  50  and  60  miles  a  day  and  he  would  have 
to  make  his  mules  travel  that  fast,  or  go  back.  "If 
you  leave,"  Joe  says,  "Major  Anthony  will  report 
you  to  headquarters  at  Leavenworth."  The  Lieu- 
tenant finally  decided  to  go,  much  to  the  relief  of 
Major  Pendelton.  After  we  had  gotten  straight- 
ened out  and  on  the  road  once  more,  Joe  Cummins 
thought  that  the  fun  had  tamed  down  too  much, 
so  he  winked  at  me,  then  asked  me,  "Billy,  where 
do  those  Texas  rangers  hold  out  along  this  road, 
do  ye  know?"  "Yes,"  I  told  him,  "they  generally 
hold  out  right  across  the  river  in  the  hills,  which 
afford  them  such  good  hiding  places  where  they 
can  ambush  without  being  discovered."  At  this, 
Major  Pendelton  suddenly  woke  up,  "what's  that, 
you  fellers  are  talking  about?"  Joe,  casually  re- 
marked that  they  were  discussing  that  band  of 
robbers  that  lived  on  the  route  across  the  river 
from  us.  He  kept  on  until  Major  Pendelton  was 
feeling  "blue."  When  we  camped  for  breakfast — 
dinner  as  the  Lieutenant  called  it.  Cummings  told 
the  paymaster  many  a  bloody  tale  of  the  lawless- 
ness of  that  trail,  and  ended  by  telling  him  and  his 
clerk  that  while  I  was  getting  breakfast  ready  that 
they  had  better  practice  up  on  their  marksman- 
ship. The  clerk  had  a  four-barreled  little  short 
pistol.  The  first  time  he  shot  at  the  mark  he 
struck  the  ground  about  four  feet  from  it.  The 
four  barrels  all  exploded  at  once.  The  paymaster 
jumped  about  six  feet  in  the  air,  thinking  that  we 
were  surely  attacked  from  the  rear.  Cummings 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  103 

was  tickled  to  death.  He  handed  the  paymaster 
his  revolver,  which  was  a  12-inch  Colts,  and  told 
him  to  shoot  toward  the  board.  The  paymaster 
fired  and  missed  the  mark.  "Well,"  Cummings 
said,  "Billy,  it's  up  to  you  and  me,  if  we  are  held 
up  by  the  Texas  rangers  on  this  trip."  "But," 
Cummings  said,  "the  Major  here  is  a  first-class 
shot,  but  a  little  weak  in  the  knees."  After  we 
again  resumed  the  road,  the  paymaster  began  to 
feel  a  little  easier,  and  a  little  like  I  should  think 
a  "donkey"  would  feel.  He  knew  now  that  Joe 
Cummins  had  been  "prodding  fun  at  him"  and  had 
no  defense.  At  Ft.  Larned  the  next  day,  I  accom- 
modated the  paymaster  by  waiting  four  hours  for 
him  to  pay  off  the  troops.  He  asked  me  if  we  had 
better  take  an  escort,  but  I  told  him  I  was  sure 
we  had  no  use  for  an  escort  since  it  was  only  a 
five  hour  trip  to  Ft.  Zara,  where  Larned  City  now 
stands.  I  told  him  that  the  last  escort  we  would 
need  would  be  from  Cow  Creek  and  that  we  could 
get  one  from  the  commanding  officer  there.  When 
we  reached  Kansas  City  the  paymaster  took  the 
steamboat  to  Leavenworth  and  Joe  Cummins  went 
to  Washington  and  made  application  for  extradi- 
tion papers  to  go  to  Canada  for  a  man  who  had 
done  some  damage  in  New  Mexico.  Cummins 
told  me  that  Lincoln  told  him  to  go  on  back  home 
and  let  the  man  in  Canada  alone,  that  the  officers 
in  New  Mexico  had  all  they  could  attend  to  with- 
out another  man. 

Joe  Cummings  went  back  to  Santa  Fe  with  me 
and  had  many  a  laugh  about  the  old  gentleman, 
meaning  Major  Pendelton,  getting  so  "riled  up" 
over  a  possible  encounter  with  Indians,  Texas 
rangers,  etc. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Cold  Weather  Pinches  Passengers  Going 
Across  the  Plains. 

On  one  of  my  wintry  trips  across  the  plains,  I 
took  a  passenger  by  the  name  of  Miller  who  was 
going  to  Santa  Fe  to  buy  wool  for  Mr.  Hammer- 
slaugh.  That  was  one  of  the  most  extreme  cold 
winters  I  ever  experienced.  When  we  reached  the 
long  route,  that  is  from  Ft.  Larned  a  distance  of 
240  miles  to  Ft.  Lyon  with  no  stations  between, 
we  took  two  coaches  if  we  had  several  passengers; 
however,  this  time  I  only  had  Mr.  Miller.  The 
first  night  out  I  told  him  he  had  better  sleep  on 
the  ground,  he  would  sleep  warmer  and  be  safer 
from  the  elements,  but  he  said  he  would  freeze 
to  death.  I  told  him  that  by  morning  he  would  see 
who  had  frozen  if  he  slept  in  the  coach.  Well,  he 
had  lots  of  bedding,  buffalo  robes,  buffalo  over- 
shoes and  blankets.  This  was  in  the  month  of 
January  and  the  weather  was  down  below  zero 
and  still  a  "zeroin',"  it  being  at  this  time  20  below. 
Sixty-five  miles  from  Ft.  Lyon  I  opened  the  cur- 
tains and  asked  him  how  he  was  faring,  and  he 
told  me  he  was  frozen  to  the  knees.  At  Pretty 
Encampment  I  opened  the  curtains  again  and  told 
him  we  had  better  put  him  in  cold  water  and  take 
the  frost  out  of  his  limbs.  I  told  him  I  would  cut 
a  hole  in  the  ice  and  put  his  feet  in  there  and  he 
would  get  all  right,  but  he  would  not  hear  to  it,  he 
said  he  couldn't  stand  it.  I  insisted  that  it  was 
the  only  plausible  thing  to  do.  He  said  that  if  I 
would  drive  straight  to  Ft.  Lyon  as  hard  as  I 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  105 

could  go  that  he  would  give  me  $100.  I  told  him 
no,  I  could  not  do  that,  it  would  kill  the  mules  be- 
fore we  could  get  there.  At  four  o'clock,  how- 
ever, we  arrived  in  Ft.  Lyon  with  our  frozen  pa- 
tient. We  got  a  doctor  as  soon  as  possible  who 
doped  his  legs  with  oil  and  cotton  and  kept  him 
there. 

On  my  next  trip  in  the  month  of  February,  I 
took  a  lady  passenger,  a  Miss  Withington, 
daughter  of  Charles  Withington,  who  lived  ten 
miles  east  of  Council  Grove,  Kansas.  She  wanted 
to  go  to  Pueblo,  Colorado.  I  told  her  how  danger- 
ous it  was  at  that  time  of  the  year,  but  she  insisted 
that  she  would  make  it  all  right,  and  as  luck  would 
have  it,  she  did  make  it.  John  McClennahan  of 
Independence,  Mo.,  was  our  driver.  On  this  trip 
as  on  the  previous  trip,  at  Pretty  Encampment  I 
opened  the  curtains  and  asked  Miss  Withington 
how  she  was.  She  told  me  her  feet  were  frozen. 
"Well,"  I  said,  "Miss  Withington,  there  is  only 
one  thing  to  do,  and  it  is  a  little  rough."  She 
asked  me  what  it  was.  I  told  her  that  I  would  cut 
a  hole  in  the  ice  and  put  her  feet  in  the  river  if  she 
would  consent  to  it.  She  was  a  nervy  little  woman, 
and  laughingly  told  me  to  "go  at  it."  I  went  ahead 
with  blankets  and  the  hatchet  and  cut  a  hole  in 
the  ice,  and  the  driver  carried  her  and  emersed  her 
feet  in  water  15  inches  deep.  She  pluckily  stood 
it  without  a  flinch.  Her  feet  were  frozen  quite 
hard  but  after  30  minutes  they  were  thawed  and 
we  took  her  back  to  the  coach  where  she  ate  a 
hearty  breakfast  and  proceeded  to  Ft.  Lyon.  At 
four  o'clock  we  reached  the  fort.  Miss  Withington 
put  on  her  shoes  but  her  feet  were  still  too  badly 
swollen  to  lace  her  shoes  and  tie  them.  She  walked 


106  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

into  the  station  alone,  and  there  lay  Mr.  Miller, 
the  passenger  of  a  month  ago,  who  had  lost  both 
his  feet  above  the  toe  joint.  Miss  Withington 
walked  up  to  him  and  said,  "you're  a  pretty  bird, 
my  feet  were  frozen  as  badly  as  yours,  but  I  'took 
to  the  water'  and  I  have  no  doubt  but  I  will  be  all 
right."  She  never  suffered  much  inconvenience, 
but  Mr.  Miller  was  a  life-long  cripple. 

Miss  Withington,  whose  name  is  Hayden  now, 
visited  in  California  in  the  year  of  1912,  just  prior 
to  my  visit  there.  I  was  indeed  sorry  not  to  have 
met  her  again.  I  met  her  once  since  that  memor- 
able trip  when  she  suffered  frozen  feet,  and  they 
never  troubled  her  afterwards. 

I  always  slept  on  the  ground  and  never  suffered 
with  cold.  I  had  buffalo  robes  and  government 
blankets.  So  long  as  the  wind  could  not  get  under 
the  covering  and  "raise  them  off"  I  was  comfort- 
able. When  the  wind  was  high,  I  usually  laid  our 
harness  over  my  bed.  In  case  of  snow  storms, 
we  would  often  wake  up  under  a  blanket  of  soft 
snow,  and  raise  up  and  poke  our  arm  through  the 
snow  to  make  an  air  hole,  then  go  back  to  sleep 
again. 

The  wolves  would  often  prowl  around  our  camp 
and  help  the  mules  eat  their  corn.  Several  times 
I  would  look  out  from  under  my  covering  and  be- 
hold eight  or  ten  wolves  eating  corn  with  the 
mules,  and  seldom  would  ever  go  to  bed  without 
first  putting  out  four  or  five  quarts  of  corn  for  the 
hungry  wolves.  One  passenger  whom  I  had  en 
route  to  Santa  Fe  joked  me  about  feeding  the 
wolves.  He  said  that  I  had  gotten  so  accustomed 
to  feed  Indians  that  I  thought  to  feed  the  wolves, 
too. 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN 


107 


LUCIEN  MAXWELL. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Lucien  Maxwell  and  Kit  Carson  Take  Sheep  to 

California. 

A  Synopsis  of  the  Life  of  Mr.  Maxwell,  a  Rich 
Ranchman. 

Lucien  B.  Maxwell  was  a  thoroughbred  North- 
erner, having  first  opened  his  eyes  in  Illinois.  He 
came  to  New  Mexico  just  prior  to  the  acquisition 
of  the  territory  by  the  United  States  prior  to  the 
granting  of  the  ranch  then  known  as  the  Beaubien 
Grant.  He  was  in  the  employ  as  hunter  and  trap- 
per for  the  American  Fur  Company. 

The  ranch,  known  as  the  Beaubien  Grant,  was 
one  of  the  most  interesting  and  picturesque 
ranches  in  all  New  Mexico  and  contained  nearly 
two  million  acres  of  ground,  traversed  by  the  Old 
Trail. 

Lucien  Maxwell  married  a  daughter  of  Carlos 
Beaubien.  Interested  in  this  large  ranch  with  him 
was  a  Mr.  Miranda.  After  the  death  of  his  father- 
in-law  Mr.  Maxwell  bought  all  the  interest  of  Mi- 
randa and  became  the  largest  land  owner  in  the 
United  States. 

The  arable  acres  of  this  large  estate  in  the  broad 
and  fertile  valleys  were  farmed  by  native  Mexi- 
cans. The  system  existing  in  the  territory  at  that 
time  was  the  system  of  peonage.  Lucien  Max- 
well was  a  good  master,  however,  and  employed 
about  five  or  six  hundred  men. 

Maxwell's  house  was  a  veritable  palace  com- 
pared with  the  usual  style  and  architecture  of  that 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  109 

time  and  country.  It  was  built  on  the  old  South- 
ern style,  large  and  roomy.  It  was  the  hospitable 
mansion  of  the  traveling  public,  and  I  have  never 
known  or  heard  of  Mr.  Maxwell  ever  charging  a 
cent  for  a  meal's  victuals  or  a  night's  lodging  un- 
der his  roof.  The  grant  ran  from  the  line  of  Colo- 
rado on  the  Raton  mountains  sixty  miles  south 
and  took  in  the  little  town  of  Maxwell  on  the  Cim- 
arron  river.  The  place  is  now  known  as  Springer, 
New  Mexico. 

In  the  yard  at  the  Maxwell  Palace,  as  we  will 
call  his  house,  was  an  old  brass  cannon,  about  which 
we  may  speak  later  on.  He  had  a  grist  mill,  a  sut- 
ler's store,  wagon  repair  shop  and  a  trading  post 
for  the  Indians. 

Besides  his  wife,  a  Mexican  woman,  Mr.  Max- 
well had  a  nice  little  girl  eight  years  old,  whom  he 
sent  to  St.  Louis  with  some  friends  to  go  to  school 
and  to  learn  how  to  become  a  "high-bred"  lady. 
In  the  fall  of  1864  on  one  of  my  trips  to  Santa  Fe 
I  met  Miss  Maxwell,  then  a  young  lady  about  six- 
teen years  old,  and  took  her  to  her  father's  house 
in  New  Mexico.  As  we  were  crossing  the  Long 
Route  I  asked  her  if  she  spoke  the  Mexican  lan- 
guage. She  told  me  that  she  had  forgotten  every 
word  of  it.  Everything  at  the  Maxwell  ranch  had 
on  its  holiday  finery  in  anticipation  of  the  arrival 
of  this  young  lady  and  Mrs.  Maxwell  came  to  meet 
the  coach  that  bore  her  beloved  child.  It  was  one 
of  the  most  touching  incidents  that  ever  came  up 
in  my  life,  before  or  since.  The  mother  reached 
the  coach  first  and  had  the  girl  in  her  arms,  crying 
and  laughing  over  her,  talking  the  Mexican  lan- 
guage to  her,  but  the  girl  never  understood  one 
word  her  mother  was  saying  and  the  mother  was 


110  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

at  an  equal  loss  to  know  what  the  daughter  spoke 
to  her.  At  last  Mr.  Maxwell  greeted  his  daughter 
who  had  grown  so  much  that  he  could  hardly  real- 
ize that  she  was  his  little  girl  he  had  sent  to  the 
states  to  receive  the  benefits  of  education  and  be- 
came at  once  interpreter  between  mother  and 
daughter. 

One  year  later  at  Fort  Union  I  met  Miss  Max- 
well and  talked  with  her.  She  told  me  she  had 
mastered  the  Mexican  language  and  was  a  fine 
horsewoman. 

In  the  year  of  1853  Mr.  Maxwell  and  Kit  Carson, 
who  was  a  favorite  friend  of  Mr.  Maxwell  and  not 
an  unfrequent  visitor  at  his  place,  went  to  Cali- 
fornia with  a  drove  of  sheep.  They  took  the  old 
Oregon  trail  by  way  of  Salt  Lake,  Utah,  and  ar- 
rived in  California  some  four  months  later,  where 
they  sold  their  sheep  to  the  miners  at  a  very  large 
price.  As  I  remember  the  sum,  I  think  it  was  in 
the  neighborhood  of  $100,000.  They  met  ill  luck 
on  their  return.  They  thought  they  could  return 
together  without  being  approached  by  robbers. 
However,  they  had  been  closely  watched  and  their 
intentions  were  pretty  well  known  to  a  bold  band 
of  robbers  then  plying  between  the  mines  of  Cali- 
fornia and  New  Mexico.  After  they  had  reached 
the  Old  Oregon  Trail  they  were  held  up  and  robbed 
of  all  they  carried.  However,  the  robbers  accom- 
modated them  by  giving  back  their  horses,  sad- 
dles and  bridles  and  enough  money  for  them  to 
make  their  return  home. 

During  my  travels  across  the  plains  I  do  not 
believe  that  for  a  distance  of  forty-five  miles  I  was 
ever  out  of  sight  of  the  herds — cattle,  horses,  goats, 
sheep,  etc. — belonging  to  Mr.  Maxwell. 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  111 

A  few  weeks  after  Maxwell  and  Kit  Carson  were 
robbed  on  the  Old  Oregon  Trail  they  got  together 
two  other  herds  of  sheep  and  went  again  to  Cali- 
fornia, taking  every  precaution  against  the  attack 
of  robbers.  This  time  Kit  Carson  went  the  north- 
ern route  and  Lucien  Maxwell  took  the  southern 
route,  arriving  in  California  about  seven  days 
apart.  They  decided  to  be  strangers  during  their 
sojourn  in  the  California  town.  Putting  up  at 
different  camps  they  disposed  of  their  sheep  and 
made  an  appointment  to  come  together  again  some- 
thing like  a  hundred  miles  distant,  going  west  to- 
ward the  Pacific  ocean.  By  these  means  they 
hoped  to  elude  the  vigilant  eye  of  robbers  and  did 
get  home  without  trouble. 

Mr.  Maxwell  was  one  of  the  most  generous  men 
I  ever  knew.  His  table  was  daily  set  for  at  least 
thirty  guests.  Sometimes  his  guests  were  invited, 
but  usually  they  were  those  whose  presence  was 
forced  upon  him  by  reason  of  his  palatial  residence, 
rightfully  called  the  "Manor  House,"  which  stood 
upon  the  plateau  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  moun- 
tains. Our  stage  coaches  were  frequently  water 
bound  at  Maxwell's,  and  our  passengers  were 
treated  like  old  and  valued  friends  of  the  host,  who, 
by  the  way,  was  fond  of  cards.  Poker  and  seven- 
up  were  his  favorite.  However,  he  seldom  ever 
played  cards  with  other  than  personal  friends.  He 
often  loaned  money  to  his  friends  to  "stake"  with 
$500  or  $1000  if  needed.  Some  of  the  rooms  in 
Maxwell's  house  were  furnished  as  lavishly  as 
were  the  homes  of  English  noblemen,  while  other 
rooms  were  devoid  of  everything  except  a  table 
for  card  playing,  chairs  and  pipe  racks. 

There  was  one  room  in  Maxwell's  house  which 


112  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

might  be  called  his  "den,"  however  not  very  ap- 
plicable. This  room  had  two  fireplaces  built  dia- 
gonally across  opposite  corners  and  contained  a 
couple  of  tables,  chairs  and  an  old  bureau  where 
Maxwell  kept  several  thousand  dollars  in  an  un- 
locked drawer.  The  doors  of  this  room  were 
never  locked  and  most  every  one  who  came  to 
this  house  knew  that  Maxwell  kept  large  sums  of 
money  in  the  "bureau  drawer,"  but  no  one  ever 
thought  of  molesting  it,  or  if  they  did,  never  did 
it.  A  man  once  asked  Mr.  Maxwell  if  he  consid- 
ered his  unique  depository  very  secure.  His  an- 
swer was,  "God  help  the  man  who  attempted  to 
rob  me  and  I  knew  him!"  In  this  room  Maxwell 
received  his  friends,  transacted  business,  allowed 
the  Indian  chiefs  to  sit  by  the  fire  or  to  sleep 
wrapped  in  blankets  on  the  hard  wood  floor  or  to 
interchange  ideas  in  their  sign  language  with  his 
visitors  who  would  sit  up  all  night  through, 
fascinated  by  the  Indian  guests.  If  Kit  Carson 
happened  to  be  at  the  Maxwell  ranch  his  bed  was 
always  on  the  floor  of  this  very  room  and  in- 
variably had  several  Indian  chiefs  in  the  room 
with  him.  The  Indians  loved  Kit  Carson  and 
liked  to  see  him  victor  over  the  games  at  the  card 
table. 

Although  Lucien  Maxwell  was  a  northerner, 
Mrs.  Maxwell  was  a  Mexican  and  with  all  the 
Mexican  etiquette  presided  over  her  house.  The 
dining  rooms  and  kitchen  were  detached  from  the 
main  house.  One  of  the  latter  for  the  male  por- 
tion of  their  retinue  and  guests  of  that  sex  and 
another  for  the  women  members.  It  was  a  rare 
thing  to  see  a  woman  about  the  Maxwell  prem- 
ises, though  there  were  many.  Occasionally  one 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  113 

would  hear  the  quick  rustle  or  get  a  hurried  view 
of  a  petticoat  (rebosa)  as  its  wearer  appeared 
for  an  instant  before  an  open  door.  The  kitchen 
was  presided  over  by  dark-faced  maidens  bossed 
by  experienced  old  cronies.  Women  were  not  al- 
lowed in  the  dining  rooms  during  meal  hours. 

The  dining  tables  were  profuse  with  solid  silver 
table-service.  The  table  cloths  were  of  the  finest 
woven  flosses.  At  one  time  when  I  was  there 
Maxwell  took  me  to  the  "loom  shed"  where  he 
had  two  Indian  women  at  work  on  a  blanket. 
The  floss  and  silk  the  women  had  woven  into 
the  blanket  cost  him  $100  and  the  women  had 
worked  on  it  one  year.  It  was  strictly  waterproof. 
Water  could  not  penetrate  it  in  any  way,  shape, 
form  or  fashion. 

Maxwell  was  a  great  lover  of  horse-racing  and 
liked  to  travel  over  the  country,  his  equipages 
comprising  anything  from  a  two-wheeled  buck- 
board  to  a  fine  coach  and  even  down  to  our  ram- 
bling Concord  stages.  He  was  a  reckless  horse- 
man and  driver. 

After  the  close  of  the  war  an  English  syndicate 
claiming  to  own  a  large  tract  of  land  in  southeast- 
ern New  Mexico  called  the  Rebosca  redunda.  He 
came  to  see  Mr.  Maxwell  and  instituted  a  trade 
with  him.  Trading  him  the  "Rebosca  Redunda" 
for  his  "Beaubien  Grant,"  thereby  swindling  Mr. 
Maxwell  out  of  his  fortune.  After  Mr.  Maxwell 
moved  to  this  place  he  found  he  had  bought  a  bad 
title  and  instituted  a  lawsuit  in  ejectment,  but  was 
unsuccessful  and  died  a  poor  man. 

Once  during  the  month  of  October  in  the  year  of 
1864,  while  en  route  to  Kansas  City  from  the  old 


-8 


114  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

Mexican  capitol,  I  stopped  at  Maxwell's  ranch  for 
lunch. 

Mr.  Maxwell  came  out  to  where  I  was  busy  with 
the  coach  and  told  me  he  wanted  me  to  carry  a 
little  package  of  money  to  Kansas  City  for  him 
and  deliver  it  to  the  Wells-Fargo  Express  Com- 
pany to  express  to  St.  Louis. 

I  told  him  I  would  take  it,  but  I  said,  "How  much 
do  you  want  me  to  take?"  He  told  me  he  wanted 
me  to  take  $52,000.  I  told  him  the  company  would 
not  like  for  me  to  put  it  in  the  safe  unless  it  was 
expressed,  but  he  said  he  didn't  want  to  express  it. 
"All  right,"  I  said,  "unless  we  are  held  up  and 
robbed  I  will  deliver  the  money  to  Wells-Fargo 
Express  Company."  "Now,"  I  said,  "in  what  shape 
is  the  money?"  He  pointed  to  an  old  black  satchel 
sitting  on  a  chair  and  said,  "There  is  the 
wallet."  I  told  him  to  wait  until  I  went  into  din- 
ner with  the  passengers,  then  for  him  to  go  out 
there  and  take  the  satchel  and  put  it  in  the  front 
boot,  then  pull  a  mail  sack  or  two  up  over  it  and 
and  on  top  of  that  throw  my  blankets  and  buffalo 
robes  which  lay  on  the  seat  on  top  of  the  mail 
sacks,  then  go  away  and  let  it  alone.  Do  not  let 
any  one  see  you  do  this. 

Let  me  say  that  Maxwell's  ranch  was  headquar- 
ters of  the  Ute  agency  which  was  established  a 
long  time  prior  to  my  traveling  through  there.  A 
company  of  cavalry  was  detailed  by  the  Govern- 
ment to  camp  there  to  impress  the  plains  tribes 
who  roamed  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  east  of  the  Raton 
range.  The  Ute  tribe  was  very  fond  of  Maxwell 
and  looked  up  to  him  as  children  look  up  to  their 
father. 

One  old  Indian  watched  Maxwell  put  the  money 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  115 

in  the  boot  of  the  stage,  and  after  he  had  left  to 
obey  my  instructions  this  old  Indian  who  would 
have  gone  through  the  "firy  furnace"  for  Lucien 
Maxwell,  stood  guard  over  the  stage.  I  did  not 
know  it  at  that  time,  but  the  Indian  afterwards 
asked  me  how  I  made  it  in  ?  When  I  came  back  to 
the  coach  I  laid  the  buffalo  robes  to  one  side,  then 
I  laid  the  mail  bags  to  one  side  and  put  the  "wallet" 
as  Mr.  Maxwell  called  the  old  black  satchel,  right 
in  the  bottom  of  the  boot  and  laid  one  mail  bag 
by  the  side  and  laid  an  old  blanket  over  both  these, 
then  piled  on  the  balance  of  the  mail  bags  and  lastly 
my  buffalo  robes.  I  usually  slept  during  the  day 
after  I  took  this  money.  My  driver  did  not  even 
know  I  had  it.  At  night  I  slept  right  there  under 
the  driver's  seat  in  the  boot  of  the  coach.  At  night 
I  rode,  before  we  quit  driving  for  our  rest,  on  the 
seat  of  the  boot  with  my  brace  of  pistols  between 
me  and  the  driver. 

Within  about  three  miles  of  Willow  Springs, 
Kansas,  a  stage  station,  twenty-five  miles  west  of 
Council  Grove,  I  discovered  twenty-five  horses 
hitched  to  the  rack.  There  was  no  retreat,  so  I 
had  to  drive  right  on  in.  Just  as  we  drove  up 
twenty-five  men  came  out  of  the  settlers'  store  and 
saloon  and  mounted. 

One  passenger  on  my  coach  was  acquainted  with 
every  man  of  them.  They  were,  however,  true  to 
my  suspicions,  a  band  of  the  notorious  Quantrell 
gang,  the  very  ones  who  had  made  the  raid  on 
Lawrence  and  killed  so  many  people  after  robbing 
them.  My  passenger  walked  up  to  the  gang  and 
said,  "Come  on,  boys,  let's  all  have  a  drink  before 
you  go."  They  all  returned  with  my  passenger 
and  drank,  but  I  told  the  driver  I  did  not  want  to 


116  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

leave  the  coach  and  for  him  to  grease  it  and  I  would 
fool  around  about  that  so  as  to  dispel  suspicion  that 
I  was  guarding  my  coach.  Before  we  were  through 
with  the  coach  the  men  came  back  and  in  my  pres- 
ence asked  the  passenger  if  he  believed  the  coach 
was  worth  robbing.  "No,"  he  said,  "I  have  not 
seen  a  sign  of  money."  I  told  the  boys  that  it 
wasn't  worth  robbing,  that  there  was  not  more 
than  $10  in  the  safe  and  ttiat  it  was  mine.  I  told 
him  I  didn't  have  much  of  a  haul  in  the  safe,  but  I 
said,  "Here's  the  key,  you  can  go  through  it  if  you 
want  to  and  satisfy  yourself."  I  laughed  and 
talked  with  the  balance  of  the  boys  as  if  nothing 
unusual  was  taking  place.  One  of  the  gang  took 
the  little  old  iron  safe,  which  was  about  eighteen 
inches  square  and  weighing  about  150  to  200 
pounds,  and  put  it  on  the  seat  of  the  coach  and  un- 
locked it.  I  had  it  literally  stuffed  full  of  way  bills, 
letters  and  such  other  plunder,  together  with  a  lit- 
tle wallet  of  mine  containing  $10.  The  robber 
took  out  the  ten  dollars  and  held  it  up,  saying,  "Is 
this  what  you  referred  to,  conductor?"  I  told  him 
that  it  was.  "Well,"  says  he,  "I  will  not  take  that, 
it  is  not  tempting  enough."  I  thanked  the  accom- 
modating robber  in  my  nicest  way  for  having  left 
me  money  to  buy  a  few  dinners  with  after  I  got  to 
Kansas  City,  and  they  left  us.  I  was  fairly  burst- 
ing with  satisfaction.  No  one  on  the  stage  knew 
that  I  had  saved  the  $52,000  of  Lucien  Maxwell's. 
However,  boy  like,  just  before  we  rolled  into  Kan- 
sas City  I  told  the  passengers  about  the  money. 

When  we  at  last  had  gained  Kansas  City  one  of 
the  passengers  told  Mr.  Barnum  about  the  esca- 
pade with  the  robbers  and  my  success  in  maintain- 
ing a  "bold  front"  and  the  "gold  dust."  Mr.  Bar- 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  117 

num  grunted  and  said,  "Oh,  well,  Billy  is  one  of 
our  conductors  that  is  so  stubborn  that  he  has  to 
have  everything  his  own  way."  Then,  he  added, 
"Did  you  say  he  gave  his  safe  keys  to  the  robbers?" 
"Yes,"  the  passenger  said,  "he  did."  Barnum  re- 
plied, "I'll  be  dogged."  Then  he  told  the  passen~ 
gers  about  my  having  deposited  the  mail  in  the 
river  to  make  a  bridge  so  I  could  cross  my  coach 
and  eventually  to  "reack  the  other  side." 

When  I  returned  from  the  express  office  where 
I  had  been  to  take  the  money,  in  fulfilment  of  my 
promise  to  Mr.  Maxwell,  old  Tom  Barnum  and 
my  passengers  were  still  talking.  Barnum  ap- 
proached me,  saying,  "Been  up  to  some  more  of 
your  tricks,  have  you,  Billy?"  I  told  him  I  had 
been  taking  "poker  chips"  to  the  express  office,  if 
that  was  what  he  meant.  They  all  had  a  good 
laugh;  then  Barnum  requested  me  to  show  him 
the  receipt  I  gave  Maxwell  for  the  money.  "Now, 
Billy,"  said  Barnum,  "you're  a  pretty  bird,  you 
know  we  would  not  charge  Maxwell  a  cent  for 
express,  for  we  never  paid  him  a  cent  for  board  or 
for  feeding  our  mules — but  never  mind," — then  he 
laughed,  "oh,  that  receipt!" 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
Kit  Carson,  My  Friend. 

Christopher  Carson,  known  among  his  friends 
as  simply  Kit  Carson,  was  a  Kentuckian  by  birth, 
having  been  born  in  December,  1809.  Kentucky 
was  at  the  time  of  his  birth  an  almost  pathless 
wilderness,  rich  with  game,  and  along  its  river 
banks  the  grasses  grew  so  luxuriant  that  it  in- 
vited settlers  to  settle  there  and  build  homes  out 
of  the  trees  which  grew  in  such  profusion.  Small 
gardens  were  cultivated  where  corn,  beans,  onions 
and  a  few  other  vegetables  were  raised,  but  fam- 
ilies subsisted,  for  the  most  part,  on  game  with 
which  the  forests  abound,  and  the  lakes  and  rivers 
were  alive  with  fish.  Wild  geese,  ducks,  turkeys, 
quail  and  pigeons  swept  through  the  air  with  per- 
fect freedom.  Deer,  antelope,  moose,  beaver, 
wolves,  catamount  and  even  grizzly  bear  often 
visited  the  scene  of  the  settler's  home,  among 
whom  was  our  friend,  Kit  Carson. 

Kit  Carson  had  no  education.  There  were  no 
schools  to  attend  other  than  the  school  of  "trap- 
ping," and  he  became  a  trapper  and  Indian  guide 
and  interpreter. 

When  Kit  was  a  small  boy  his  father  moved, 
on  foot,  so  history  relates,  to  Missouri.  At  the 
time  of  the  move,  however,  there  was  no  state  or 
even  territory  of  Missouri.  France  had  ceded  to 
the  United  States  the  unexplored  regions  which 
were  in  1800  called  Upper  Louisiana. 

Kit's  father  had  a  few  white  friends,  trappers 
and  hunters,  but  the  Indians  were  numerous.  Mr. 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  119 

Carson,  together  with  the  other  white  families, 
banded  themselves  together  and  built  a  large  log 
house,  so  fashioned  as  to  be  both  a  house  and  a 
fort  if  occasion  demanded  them  to  fortify  against 
a  possible  foe.  The  building  was  one  story  high, 
having  port  holes  through  which  the  muzzles  of 
rifles  could  be  thrust.  As  additional  precaution 
they  built  palisades  around  the  house.  This  house 
was  built  in  what  is  now  Howard  County,  Mis- 
souri, north  of  the  Missouri  river.  Christopher 
Carson  at  fifteen  years  of  age  had  never  been  to 
school  a  day,  but  he  was  "one  of  the  Four  Hun- 
dred" equal  to  any  man  in  his  district.  He  was 
a  fine  marksman,  excellent  horseman,  of  strong 
character  and  sound  judgment.  His  disposition 
was  quiet,  amiable  and  gentle.  One  of  those  boys 
who  did  things  without  boasting  and  did  every- 
thing the  best  he  could. 

At  about  this  stage  of  his  life  his  father  put 
him  out  as  an  apprentice  to  learn  a  trade.  The 
trade  he  was  to  learn  was  that  of  "saddler."  How- 
ever, the  boy  languished  under  the  confinement 
and  did  not  take  to  the  business.  He  was  a 
hunter  and  trapper  by  training  and  nothing  else 
would  satisfy  his  nature. 

One  night  about  two  years  later  when  Kit  was 
a  young  man  eighteen  years  old  a  man  who 
chanced  to  pass  his  father's  humble  home  related 
his  adventures.  He  told  how  much  was  to  be 
earned  by  selling  buffalo  robes,  buckskins,  etc., 
at  Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico.  He  drew  beautiful 
word  pictures  of  wealth  that*  could  be  attained 
in  the  great  Spanish  capital  of  New  Mexico,  more 
than  a  thousand  miles  from  Missouri. 

At    last   several   able-bodied    men     decided    to 


120  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

equip  some  pack  mules  and  go  to  the  great 
bonanza.  They  intended  to  live  on  game  which 
they  would  shoot  on  the  way.  Kit  heard  of  the 
party  and  applied  to  them  to  let  him  accompany 
them.  They  were  not  only  glad  of  his  offer  to 
go,  but  considered  they  had  a  great  need  for  him 
because  he  was  so  "handy"  among  the  Indians. 
It  turned  out  that  Kit  engineered  the  whole  party. 
He  had  a  military  demeanor.  When  the  mules 
were  brought  up  and  their  packs  fastened  upon 
their  backs,  which  operation  required  both  skill 
and  labor,  it  was  Kit  who  ordered  the  march, 
which  was  conducted  with  more  than  ordinary 
military  precision. 

Kit  Carson  was  a  beloved  friend  of  several 
tribes  of  Indians.  He  learned  from  them  how  to 
make  his  clothes,  which  he  considered  were  of 
much  more  artistic  taste  and  style  and  more  be- 
coming than  the  tightly  fitting  store  suits  of 
a  "Broadway  dude"  he  had  once  "gazed  upon." 
This  suit  that  he  was  so  proud  of  consisted  of  a 
hunting  shirt  of  soft,  pliable  deer  skin,  orna- 
mented with  long  fringes  of  buckskin  dyed  a 
bright  vermillion  or  copperas.  The  trousers  were 
made  of  the  same  material  and  ornamented  with 
the  same  kind  of  fringes  and  porcupine  quills  of 
various  colors.  His  cap  was  made  of  fur  which 
could  entirely  cover  his  head,  with  "port  holes" 
for  his  eyes  and  nose  and  mouth.  The  mouth 
must  be  free  to  hold  his  clay  pipe  filled  with 
tobacco.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  he  wore  moc- 
casins upon  his  feet,  beautified  with  many  col- 
ored beads. 

Prior  to  the  year  of  1860  I  was  not  personally 
acquainted  with  Kit  Carson,  but  after  that  year 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  121 

I  knew  him  well.  At  Fort  Union  he  was  the  cen- 
ter of  attraction  from  the  first  of  April,  1865, 
until  April  1st,  1866.  Every  one  wanted  to  hear 
Kit  tell  of  exploits  he  had  been  in,  and  he  could 
tell  a  story  well.  Kit  loved  to  play  cards  and 
while  he  was  as  honest  as  the  day  was  long  he 
was  usually  a  winner.  He  didn't  like  to  put  up 
much  money.  If  he  didn't  have  a  good  hand  he 
would  lay  down. 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1865  Carson  went  with 
Captain  Willis  to  the  border  of  the  Indian  coun- 
try along  the  lines  of  Texas  and  Arizona  in 
southwestern  New  Mexico.  This  massacre  is 
fully  explained  on  another  page  of  this  book. 

Kit  Carson,  like  Col.  A.  G.  Boone,  dealt  hon- 
estly with  the  Indians,  and  Kit  Carson  had  on 
several  occasions  told  me  that  had  Colonel  A.  G. 
Boone  remained  the  Indian  agent,  if  he  had  not 
been  withdrawn  by  the  government,  the  great  war 
with  the  Indians  would  never  have  occurred. 

Kit  Carson  was  a  born  leader  of  men  and  was 
known  from  Missouri  to  Santa  Fe — he  was  one  of 
the  most  widely  known  men  on  the  frontier. 

Carson  was  the  father  of  seven  children.  He 
was  at  the  time  of  his  death,  his  wife  having 
crossed  over  the  river  in  April,  1868.  His  disease 
was  aneurism  of  the  aorta.  A  tumor  pressing  on 
the  pneumo-gastric  nerves  and  trachea  caused 
such  frequent  spasms  of  the  bronchial  tubes, 
which  were  exceedingly  distressing.  Death  took 
place  at  4:25  p.  m.  May  23,  1868.  His  last  words 
were  addressed  to  his  faithful  doctor,  H.  R.  Til- 
ton,  assistant  surgeon  of  the  United  States  army, 
and  were  "Compadre  adois"  (dear  friend,  good 
bye).  In  his  will  he  left  property  to  the  value 


122  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

of  $7,000  to  his  children.  Kit  Carson's  first  wife 
was  an  Indian  Cheyenne  girl  of  unusual  intelli- 
gence and  beauty.  They  had  one  girl  child.  After 
her  birth  the  mother  only  lived  a  short  time.  This 
child  was  tenderly  reared  by  Kit  until  she  reached 
eight  years,  when  he  took  her  to  St.  Louis  and  lib- 
erally provided  for  all  her  wants.  She  received  as 
good  an  education  as  St.  Louis  could  afford  and 
was  introduced  to  the  refining  influences  of  pol- 
ished society.  She  married  a  Californian  and  re- 
moved with  him  to  his  native  state. 

The  Indians  of  today  are  possessed  with  the 
same  ambitions  as  the  whites.  There  are  Indian 
lawyers,  Indian  doctors,  Indian  school  teachers 
and  other  educators,  but  in  the  frontier  days 
when  from  Leavenworth,  Kansas,  to  Santa  Fe 
the  plains  were  thronged  with  Indians  they  were 
looked  upon  as  uncivilized  and  were  uncivilized, 
but  were  so  badly  abused,  run  out  of  their  homes 
and  were  given  no  chances  to  become  civilized 
or  to  learn  any  arts. 

The  Indians  around  Maxwell's  ranch  were 
mostly  a  lazy  crowd  because  they  had  nothing  to 
do.  Maxwell  fed  them,  gave  them  some  work, 
gave  the  squaws  considerable  work — they  wove 
blankets  with  a  skill  that  cannot  be  surpassed 
by  artists  of  today.  Not  only  were  these  Indian 
women  fine  weavers,  but  they  worked  unceas- 
ingly on  fine  buckskin  (they  tanned  their  own 
hides),  garments,  beading  them,  embroidering 
them,  working  all  kinds  of  profiles  such  as  the 
profile  of  an  Indian  chief  or  brave,  animals  of  all 
kinds  were  beaded  or  embroidered  into  the  clothes 
they  made  for  the  chiefs  of  their  tribes.  These 
suits  were  often  sold  to  foreigners  to  take  east 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN 


123 


as  a  souvenir  and  they  would  sell  them  for  the 
small  sum  of  $200  to  $300.  Those  Indian  women 
would  braid  fine  bridle  reins  of  white,  black  and 
sorrel  horse  hair  for  their  chiefs  and  for  sale  to 
the  white  men.  The  Indian  squaws  were  always 
busy  but  liked  to  see  a  horse  race  as  well  as  their 
superior — their  chief.  A  squaw  is  an  excellent 
mother.  While  she  cannot  be  classed  as  indul- 
gent she  certainly  desires  to  train  her  child  to 
endure  hardships  if  they  are  called  upon  to  en- 
dure them.  She  trains  the  little  papoose  to  take 
to  the  cold  water,  not  for  the  cleansing  qualities, 
but  for  the  "hardiness"  she  thinks  it  gives  him. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

General    Carleton    Received    Orders    from    Mr. 

Moore  to  Send  Soldiers'  Pay 

Envelopes  to  Him. 

In  March  of  1865  I  made  my  last  trip  across 
the  renowned  Santa  Fe  Trail  from  Kansas  City, 
Missouri,  to  Santa  Fe,  New  Mexico. 

Somewhere  on  the  route  between  Las  Vegas, 
New  Mexico,  and  Fort  Union  I  met  a  Mr.  Moore 
of  the  firm  of  Moore,  Mitchel  &  Co.  This  firm 
owned  a  "sutler's  store"  at  Tecolote,  Fort  Bliss 
and  Fort  Union.  The  store  at  Fort  Union  was 
the  general  supply  station  for  the  other  named 
stores.  The  stock  carried  at  the  supply  store 
amounted  to  something  like  $350,000  to  $500,000. 
This  stock  consisted  of  general  merchandise.  It 
was  to  this  store  one  went  to  buy  coffee,  sugar, 
soda,  tobacco  and  bacon,  calico,  domestic,  linsey, 
jeans,  leather  and  gingham,  officers'  clothing,  tin 
buckets,  wooden  tubs,  coffee  pots,  iron  "skillets- 
and  leds,"  iron  ovens,  crowbars,  shovels,  plows, 
and  harness.  To  this  store  the  settlers  came  to 
buy  molasses,  quinine,  oil  and  turpentine,  ver- 
million  and  indigo  blue.  Everything  used  was 
kept  in  this  one  store.  During  those  times  there 
were  no  drug  stores,  shoes  stores,  dry  goods 
stores,  etc.,  but  everything  was  combined  in  one 
large  store.  Calico  was  sold  for  $1  per  yard, 
common  bleached  muslin  sold  for  $2  a  yard,  do- 
mestic was  from  $1  to  $1.50  and  $2  per  yard. 
Sugar  sold  for  75  cents  to  $1  per  pound.  Coffee 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  125 

brought  about  the  same.  Tobacco  and  cheap 
pipes  brought  stunning  prices. 

Mr.  Moore  rode  on  with  us  for  an  hour  or  two, 
then  he  asked  me  quite  suddenly,  "Aren't  you 
Billy  Ryus?"  I  told  him  I  usually  answered  to 
that  name.  Then  he  asked  me  if  I  was  ac- 
quainted with  John  Flournoy  of  Independence, 
Missouri.  I  answered,  "Yes,  we  drove  the  stage 
over  the  Long  Route  together  for  six  months." 
Then  Mr.  Moore  said  that  he  wanted  to  take  me 
to  one  side  and  have  a  talk  with  me.  Reader, 
you  are  well  aware  that  some  men  are  born  to 
rule — Mr.  Moore  was  one  of  those  men.  He 
never  knew  anything  superior  to  his  wishes. 
"What  he  said  went"  with  the  procession.  He 
even  went  so  far  as  to  order  General  Carleton, 
commanding  officer  of  the  troops  in  that  portion 
of  the  country,  to  make  the  payment  to  the  sol- 
diers and  mechanics  at  Fort  Union  through  him 
and  let  him  pay  off  the  soldiers.  These  pay- 
ments would  run  up  to  $65,000  or  $75,000  per 
quarter.  Up  to  the  time  of  his  meeting  with  me 
no  one  had  dared  to  thwart  his  wishes. 

At  his  request  I  walked  out  a  piece  from  the 
coach  with  him,  and  he  said,  "Billy  Ryus,  I  have 
been  on  the  lookout  for  you  for  a  year!"  I  was 
astonished,  and  asked  him  what  he  had  been  look- 
ing for  me  for.  His  answer  was  that  he  wanted 
me  to  stop  at  Ft.  Union  on  my  way  back  from 
Santa  Fe  and  go  up  to  their  store  and  clerk  for 
them.  I  answered,  "Mr.  Moore,  that  is  practically 
impossible;  I  can't  do  it."  Then  he  said,  "you've 
got  to  do  it,  I've  spent  too  much  time  looking  for 
you  already,  you've  got  to  clerk  for  us."  I  am  a 
little  hot  headed  myself,  and  I  answered  him  as 


126  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

tartly  as  he  spoke  to  me.  "Mr.  Moore,"  says  I, 
"I've  got  to  do  nothing  of  the  sort."  Then  Mr. 
Moore  cooled  down  and  talked  more  like  a  busi- 
ness man  and  less  like  a  bully. 

"Now,  Mr.  Ryus,"  (I  was  young  then  and  quick- 
ly noticed  the  Mr.  Ryus)  "this  is  our  proposition: 
We  will  give  you  $1000  a  year,  board,  and  room 
and  you  can  have  your  clothes  at  cost.  And,"  he 
said,  "I'll  make  you  a  check  right  here."  I  told 
him  that  his  proposition  did  not  make  a  bit  of  dif- 
ference to  me,  for  I  was  working  for  Mr.  Barnum 
and  could  not  leave  his  employ  without  first  giv- 
ing him  thirty  days'  notice  to  get  a  man  in  my 
place.  Mr.  Moore  was  quick  to  respond,  "Ah,  let 
that  job  be  da — ed" —  This  side  of  Mr.  Moore's 
character  did  not  suit  me,  and  I  asked  him  what 
he  would  think  of  Mr.  Barnum  if  he  should  stop 
over  at  his  store  and  take  one  of  his  employees  off 
without  giving  him  a  chance  to  get  another  in  his 
place,  and  what  would  he  think  of  the  clerk  that 
would  do  him  that  way  I  told  him  that  I  would 
not  do  him  that  way.  Mr.  Moore  said  that  he  saw 
that  I  was  "squeally"  but  that  he  saw  my  point, 
and  supposed  I  was  right.  "Now,  Mr.  Moore,"  I 
said,  "when  I  get  into  Santa  Fe,  if  Mr.  Barnum  is 
there  I  will  tell  him  about  your  proposition,  and 
if  he  can  let  me  off  now,  and  will  take  the  stage 
back  to  the  States  for  me,  I  will  take  your  propo- 
sition." He  replied,  "Well,  that's  all  right,  you 
come  back  to  us,  if  you  don't  get  here  for  sixty 
days,  and  we  will  pay  your  expenses  here." 

Mr.  Moore  put  the  spurs  to  his  horse  and  gal- 
loped out  of  sight.  What  my  impression  was  of 
Mr.  Moore  could  hardly  be  expressed.  I  certainly 
had  not  the  slightest  feeling  of  awe — that  one  of 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  127 

the  passengers  said  he  felt  for  the  man,  but  I  do 
not  know  whether  or  not  I  felt  any  great  confi- 
dence in  him.  However,  when  I  came  to  know 
him,  as  I  did  by  being  in  his  society  every  day  for 
a  year,  I  found  him  to  be  a  man  of  many  sterling 
qualities. 

Mr.  Barnum  returned  with  me  from  Santa  Fe 
to  Ft.  Union  and  went  up  to  the  store  with  me. 
Mr.  Barnum  told  me  that  he  regretted  that  I 
wanted  to  leave  his  employ,  but  that  if  it  was  to 
my  benefit,  he  would  have  to  take  the  coach  in  for 
me  and  get  a  man  in  my  place,  "but,"  he  added, 
"I  do  not  think  I  will  be  able  to  find  a  man  who 
can  make  peace  with  the  Indians,  as  you  have  al- 
ways done."  Mr.  Barnum  told  Mr.  Moore  that  he 
had  never  lost  a  life  since  I  had  been  doing  the 
driving,  and  that  I  had  not  only  saved  the  lives  of 
passengers,  but  that  I  had  saved  him  money  and 
time. 

When  Mr.  Barnum  prepared  to  leave  the  store, 
he  had  the  coach  driven  up  and  my  things  taken 
off  and  put  in  the  store,  then  he  turned  to  me  and 
held  out  his  hand,  saying,  "Billy,  in  making  the 
treaties  with  the  Indians,  such  as  you  have,  you 
have  not  only  saved  the  lives  of  many  passengers 
and  won  the  title  of  the  second  William  Penn, 
but  you  have  endeared  yourself  to  me  and  to  the 
other  boys  in  this  company,  and  to  all  the  settlers 
between  Kansas  City  and  Santa  Fe."  I  was  great- 
ly agitated  and  impressed  by  his  impressive  speech, 
and  I  thanked  him  for  his  kind  words  of  praise  for 
the  services  I  had  given  in  my  small  way. 

The  morning  after  Mr.  Barnum  left,  I  was  feel- 
ing a  little  lonely  among  my  new  surroundings, 
and  Kit  Carson  sauntered  into  the  room.  As  soon 


128  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

as  I  looked  into  his  kindly  eyes  I  knew  I  had  met 
a  friend,  and  I  also  knew  in  a  moment  that  it  was 
Kit  Carson,  of  whose  fame  as  an  Indian  fighter  I 
had  often  read. 

I  told  him  that  I  had  heard  many  tragic  tales  of 
his  wonderful  heroism  among  the  unfriendly 
Indians,  and  he  told  me  that  I  had  heard  many  a 
"da — er  lie,"  too,  he  reckoned.  He  never  killed 
an  Indian  in  cold  blood  in  his  life.  He  told  me  that 
if  the  Indians  had  not  been  trespassed  upon,  that 
the  great  Indian  wars  would  not  have  become  a 
thing  of  history. 

The  enormous  trade  at  the  "sutler's  store"  kept 
us  four  counter  jumpers  continually  on  the  jump 
for  a  year.  There  was  no  five  cent  picture  shows 
to  keep  the  clerks  out  with  their  girls  there,  and 
the  only  amusement  we  had  was  to  either  play 
cards  or  billiards,  or  to  sit  around  and  watch  Kit 
Carson  and  the  boss  play.  Kit  was  a  fine  card 
player  and  seldom  ever  lost  a  game,  but  he  would 
not  put  up  very  much.  To  see  him  play  billiards 
was  one  sport,  every  time  he  hit  a  ball,  he  would 
kick  his  foot  up  and  say,  "A  boys,  ay." 

This  store  of  Moore's  was  built  like  a  fort.  The 
walls  a  150-foot  square  and  built  of  brick.  Every 
thing  in  New  Fort  Union  was  of  brick.  It  was  a 
two  story  concern  with  a  rotunda  or  plaza  in  the 
center.  Here  the  wagons  drove  in  to  unload  and 
reload.  The  front  of  the  store  was  near  the  big 
gate.  It  had  a  safe  room,  an  office  and  the  store 
room  proper. 

One  trip  per  year  was  made  to  Kansas  City 
with  large  mule  trains  to  get  goods  to  stock  these 
three  stores.  These  trips  were  sometimes  full 
of  suffering  and  hardships.  Many  a  freighter 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  129 

left  his  wife  and  babies  never  to  return  to  them 
more.  They  were  often  killed  by  Indians  who 
had  come  to  their  trains  to  get  food,  but  were 
repulsed  by  the  poor  policy  of  the  wagon  bosses 
who  have  often  ordered  the  ox  drivers  to  "pull 
down  on  the  red  devils"  and  so  start  trouble, 
which  was  often  disastrous  for  the  whites,  in 
view  of  the  fact  that  the  Indians  on  those  plains 
were  numerous  while  the  white  men  were  few 
and  straggling. 

Sometimes  the  old  Indian  squaws  would  come 
to  the  store  to  buy  sugar,  candy,  nuts,  tobacco 
or  coffee.  She  would  come  riding  in  on  her 
pony  as  slowly  as  her  quick  footed  pony  would 
carry  her,  greatly  interested  in  all  her  eyes  be- 
held. She  was  greatly  attracted  by  the  bright 
colors  of  the  calicos  and  I  have  often  made  treat- 
ies with  the  Indians  by  offering  their  squaws 
some  bits  of  bright  ribbon  or  calico. 

The  Mexican  women  were  very  fond  of  bright 
colors.  Their  dresses  did  not  amount  to  much. 
They  wore  a  short  skirt  and  rebosa.  Their 
head-dress  covered  their  hair  and  came  together 
in  front  under  the  chin  and  hung  to  the  belt. 
What  dress  she  wore  must  be  very  bright  and 
gaudy  and  I  have  known  a  pretty  Mexican  girl 
with  about  $2.50  worth  of  dress  on  come  in  and 
purchase  an  $8.00  pair  of  shoes.  If  she  wanted 
an  extra  nice  pair  of  shoes  she  said  she  wanted 
a  pair  of  shoes  "made  out  of  Spanish  leather." 
Such  a  pair  as  would  look  nice  on  the  dancing 
floors  at  their  fandangoes.  The  serapa  takes 
the  place  of  the  American  woman's  bonnet. 


-9 


130  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

In  1866  when  the  war  was  coming  to  an  end, 
trade  began  to  get  dull.  I  had  been  wanting  to 
get  out  of  the  store  and  "try  my  wings"  at  some- 
thing else.  When  I  began  to  cast  my  eyes  about 
for  something  different  from  the  routine  of  store 
work,  I  met  a  certain  Mr.  Joe  Dillon,  who  offered 
me  the  opportunity  I  was  seeking. 


CHAPTER  XXL 
Joe  Dillon  and  I  Go  to  Montana  With  Sheep. 

Along  about  the  15th  of  March,  Joe  Dillon, 
who  had  been  a  quartermaster  in  the  Union  army, 
left  the  army  at  Fort  Leavenworth,  Kansas,  the 
possessor  of  $60,000  and  a  mule  train  of  fifteen 
wagons,  which  he  had  obtained  some  way  or 
other,  the  Devil  knows  how.  He  was  a  pecu- 
liar man  and  totally  unable  to  keep  a  man  in 
his  employ.  He  was  abusive,  bossy  and  alto- 
gether uncongenial. 

With  his  train  loaded  with  goods  which  he 
got  in  Kansas  City  and  Independence,  he  started 
with  a  wagon  boss  and  several  men  across  the 
Old  Trail  to  New  Mexico,  early  in  the  spring  of 
'65,  but  he  had  so  many  altercations  with  his 
teamsters — some  quit  him,  others  would  do  as 
they  pleased,  and  altogether  he  had  such  a  bad 
time  of  it  that  he  did  not  arrive  at  Maxwell's 
ranch  until  after  the  snow  fell  the  following 
winter. 

Every  wagon  that  passed  him  brought  news 
of  Joe  Dillon's  troubles  to  the  fort.  When  Mr. 
Dillon  came  to  me  in  the  spring  of  1866,  I  knew 
him  pretty  well  by  reputation.  He  approached 
me  and  told  me  that  he  had  bought  4000  sheep 
irom  Lucien  Maxwell  and  wanted  to  get  me  to 
go  with  him  to  Montana  to  take  them.  I  told 
him  I  would  like  to  go,  but  that  I  did  not  know 
whether  I  could  get  away  or  not.  I  would  see 
Mr.  Moore. 


132  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

"Alright,"  he  said.  "I  think  I  will  see  Mr. 
Moore,  and  tell  him  I  want  you  to  go  and  boss 
my  crew."  I  replied  that  he  must  do  nothing 
of  the  sort,  for  if  he  did,  Mr.  Moore  would  not 
let  me  off  willingly.  I  explained  to  him  that  if 
I  went  to  Mr.  Moore  and  told  him  I  wanted  off, 
and  gave  him  a  plausible  reason,  he  would  let 
me  off  without  hesitation.  However,  Mr.  Dillon 
thought  he  had  about  made  a  "deal"  with  me  and 
he  went  into  the  office,  and  told  Mr.  Moore  that 
he  had  "hired  your  clerk"  to  go  to  Montana  with 
his  sheep.  Mr.  Moore  told  him  that  "he  guessed 
not." 

Dillon  had  agreed  with  me  that  he  would  say 
nothing  to  Mr.  Moore.  So  he  came  to  me  in  the 
morning  of  the  day  after  he  first  spoke  to  me 
about  the  deal  and  said,  "Moore  said  you  couldn't 
go."  I  was  hot  all  over  in  a  second.  "Mr.  Dil- 
lon, you  agreed  not  to  speak  to  Mr.  Moore  about 
this  matter — it  was  a  matter  between  he  and  I, 
and  since  your  word  cannot  be  depended  upon, 
our  business  relations  cease  right  here."  I  con- 
sidered his  management  bad  and  his  word  w 
honor,  worse.  Mr.  Dillon  returned  to  Maxwell's 
ranch  and  I  continued  in  the  store. 

Finally,  Mr.  Moore  approached  me  on  the 
subject.  "Billy,"  said  he,  "thought  you  were 
going  with  Dillon  to  Montana  with  his  sheep  '* 
I  then  told  him  how  it  came  about  that  I  had 
told  Dillon  I  would  speak  to  him  about  it  first. 
We  had  made  no  contract,  for  without  first  get- 
ting Mr.  Moore's  consent  I  would  not  make  any 
contract  with  Dillon. 

Now  I  could  readily  see  that  trade  had  fallen 


THE  SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  133 

off  and  I  knew  that  some  of  the  boys  would  have 
to  quit  and  seek  other  employment.  There  was 
one  man  there  with  a  large  family  in  the  states 
who  received  a  salary  of  $1500  a  year.  I  knew 
that  he  did  not  want  to  be  thrown  out  of  a  job, 
and  I  was  eager  to  "try  some  new  experience." 
So  I  told  Mr.  Moore  that  I  had  heard  from  one 
of  Maxwell's  clerks  that  Dillon  did  still  want  me 
to  go  with  the  sheep,  and  if  he  was  willing  to  let 
me  off  I  would  make  Dillon  a  proposition.  "All 
right,  Billy,  you  can  make  a  proposition  with 
Dillon  and  in  case  you  do  not  carry  it  out,  you 
need  not  quit  here,"  said  Mr.  Moore. 

Joe  Dillon  came  up  the  next  Thursday  night 
and  began  to  talk  to  me  there  in  the  store  about 
taking  his  sheep  to  Montana.  I  told  him  that  I 
would  talk  to  him  about  the  matter  as  soon  as 
the  store  closed  that  night,  but  that  I  did  not 
want  to  hear  one  word  of  it  until  that  time. 

After  the  store  was  closed  up  I  told  Mr.  Walker 
to  stay  with  me  and  hear  my  proposition  with 
Dillon,  and  I  wanted  him  to  draw  up  our  con- 
tract. I  told  Dillon  that  I  would  take  charge  of 
his  sheep  under  these  stipulations.  I  would  have 
to  have  absolute  control  of  the  sheep,  men,  mess 
wagons,  pack  horses  and  everything  else.  I 
would  employ  the  men  and  discharge  them.  I 
told  him  I  would  furnish  $700.00  or  $800.00  to 
properly  equip  the  train,  and  I  would  take  a  bill 
of  sale  from  him  for  all  the  sheep.  I  also  told 
him  that  he  would  have  to  go  on  ahead  on  the 
stage  coach,  or  do  as  he  chose  in  the  matter, 
that  he  must  absolutely  remain  away  from  our 
camps  and  herds  while  I  was  in  control.  After 


134  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

much  deliberation,  he  agreed  to  my  terms,  and  we 
signed  up. 

I  filled  an  ox  wagon  with  bacon,  flour,  salt, 
soda,  tobacco  and  saddles.  Mr.  Dillon  watched 
me  put  tobacco  on  the  wagon  and  said  I  was 
loading  unnecessary  stuff  on  the  wagon.  I  told 
him  that  I  would  need  all  the  bacon  and  the 
tobacco,  and  perhaps  several  head  of  sheep  to 
make  my  treaties  with  the  Indians  when  I  took 
my  sheep  through  their  reservations.  Now  this 
little  speech  brought  a  sneer  to  the  face  of  my 
venerable  partner.  "No  use  of  making  treaties 
with  the  Indians;  you  get  a  military  escort  with- 
out paying  anything  out."  I  told  him  no  mili- 
tary escort  would  need  to  travel  with  me. 

About  the  middle  of  April  I  received  the  3000 
head  of  sheep  from  Maxwell's  ranch  and  took 
my  assistant,  Mark  Shearer  to  Calhoun's  ranch 
to  get  the  other  1000  head.  I  had  left  the  camp 
in  good  trim  there  near  Maxwell's  and  every- 
thing was  progressing  nicely  with  my  sheep  on 
the  grass  with  good  herders.  At  Calhoun  ranch 
we  were  delayed  on  account  of  Calhoun  having 
to  shear  the  sheep.  However,  after  four  days' 
delay  we  started  back  toward  Maxwell's.  Joe 
Dillon  met  us  not  far  from  camp  and  told  me  he 
had  discharged  four  of  my  men  and  paid  off  two 
in  tobacco  and  the  other  two  men  would  not 
take  tobacco.  He  said  that  he  had  hired  four 
more  in  their  place.  One  was  a  hunter  and  he 
had  agreed  to  give  him  $80  per  month  to  keep 
the  men  in  provisions.  The  other  was  a  black- 
smith which  he  thought  we  might  need  after 
we  started  over  the  mountains. 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  135 

"Now,  Joe,  do  you  think  you  can  discharge  a 
man  without  paying  him  off?"  I  asked  him. 
"Well,"  he  said,  "I  didn't  have  the  money  on 
hand  to  pay  him  with."  I  told  him  that  his  med- 
dling with  these  men  did  not  suit  me,  and  that  I 
did  not  want  his  four  men,  moreover,  I  said,  "I 
will  not  move  a  peg  from  camp  with  them."  I 
employ  my  drivers  and  I  discharge  them." 

When  we  got  into  camp  the  hunter  had  killed 
a  jack  rabbit,  all  the  meat  he  had  provided  since 
he  was  employed  four  days  before.  After  rein- 
stating my  men  and  making  Mr.  Dillon  under- 
stand that  his  place  was  at  the  other  end  of  the 
line,  where  he  might  as  well  be  enjoying  himself 
until  our  arrival  in  Montana,  we  started  on  our 
journey. 

Dillon  went  on  the  stage  to  Kansas  City  and 
en  route  to  Kansas  City  he  fell  in  with  a  sharper 
at  Bent's  old  fort,  and  told  him  that  he  had  a 
drove  of  7000  sheep  coming.  The  sharper  had 
20  blooded  brood  mares  and  a  stallion,  and  ban- 
tered Dillon  for  a  trade.  They  made  the  trade 
and  Dillon  gave  the  "shark"  a  bill  of  sale  for 
the  sheep  with  the  provision  that  I  would  agree 
to  it. 

When  we  got  within  nine  miles  of  Denver  we 
camped  for  dinner.  While  we  sat  around  our 
"picnic  spread"  a  couple  of  men  drove  up  in  a 
buggy  and  asked  if  Mr.  Ryus  was  there.  I  told 
him  to  "alight"  and  take  a  few  refreshments  with 
us,  that  I  was  Mr.  Ryus.  He  told  me  to  come 
out  to  the  buggy,  he  wanted  to  talk  with  me.  I 
told  him  that  "this  is  my  office,  out  with  whatever 
you've  got  to  say."  He  then  asked  me  if  the 


136  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

sheep  were  Mr.  Dillon's.  I  told  him  they  certainly 
were  not.  They  were  mine.  Then  he  buckled 
up.  "No,  Mr.  Ryus,  they  aren't  your  sheep,  they 
are  mine.  I  bought  them  at  Bent's  old  fort  from 
Joe  Dillon,  and  I  am  going  to  take  possession  of 
those  sheep  and  take  them  to  Denver  and  sell 
them."  I  told  him  that  "maybe  he  would  and 
maybe  he  wouldn't;  we  would  see  about  that." 
I  then  asked  him  what  he  gave  for  the  sheep. 
He  told  me  he  had  traded  some  blooded  horses 
and  a  stallion  for  them.  I  then  asked  him  if  he 
was  dealing  for  himself  or  for  other  parties.  He 
told  me  he  was  dealing  for  himself.  "For  how 
much  are  your  horses  mortgaged?"  I  asked  him. 
"Oh,  something  like  $4000,"  he  replied.  I  told 
the  "horse  trader"  that  it  wasn't  worth  while 
to  take  up  any  more  time.  As  for  my  part,  I 
had  rather  think  of  my  buffalo  steak  right  then, 
and  if  he  didn't  want  to  get  out  of  the  buggy 
and  come  and  eat  with  us,  to  "drill  on"  toward 
Denver,  that  me,  the  boys  and  the  sheep  were 
going  to  Montana.  He  said,  "Alright,  Mr.  Ryus, 
we  will  drill  on,  as  you  say,  but  we  will  take  pos- 
session of  those  sheep  before  you  get  into  Den- 
ver." I  told  him  to  "crack  his  whip,"  and  to  go 
to  that  warm  place  from  which  no  "hoss  trader" 
returned  if  he  wanted  to,  but  for  him  not  to  in- 
terfere with  me  or  the  sheep.  Away  he  went. 
My  temper  was  at  its  best  and  thoroughly  un- 
der control,  so  I  told  the  boys  to  not  feel  the  least 
alarm,  no  "yaller  backed  hoss  trader"  would  get 
those  sheep,  without  getting  into  a  "considera- 
ble tarnatious  scrap"  with  Little  Billy. 

It  seemed  that  we  were  destined  to  have  sev- 


THE   SECOND  WILLIAM   PENN  137 

eral  visitors  before  we  arrived  in  Denver.  This 
time  we  had  camped  for  supper  and  a  lonely 
looking  half  starved  individual  put  in  his  appear- 
ance with  a  saddle  on  his  back.  He  asked  me  if 
he  could  get  some  supper  with  us  and  I  told  him 
to  "lay  to,"  and  he  then  asked  me  if  I  knew  him. 
I  told  him  I  knew  him  but  it  would  not  be  to  his 
disadvantage. 

A  few  days  before  this  I  had  seen  an  account 
in  the  paper  where  a  Mr.  Service  had  shot  and 
killed  a  Mexican.  I  told  him  that  there  was 
already  a  reward  out  for  $1,000  for  him.  I  told 
him  he  needn't  say  a  word  about  the  affair  to 
the  boys,  and  I  wouldn't.  He  told  me  that  he 
had  killed  the  Mexican  because  he  couldn't  avoid 
it.  It  seemed  that  a  very  rich  Mexican  with  a 
twenty-wagon  train  and  100  yoke  of  oxen  had 
stopped  near  the  little  ranch  of  Service  and  Miller 
to  cook  their  meals.  He  had  unyoked  his  cattle 
and  driven  them  to  the  creek  for  water  and  in- 
stead of  returning  by  the  route  he  had  gone, 
threw  down  the  fence  and  was  driving  his  oxen 
through  Service's  ten-acre  corn  patch.  The  corn 
was  up  about  two  feet  high  and  the  cattle  were 
literally  ruining  the  corn.  Mr.  Service  attempted 
to  drive  the  cattle  off  the  corn,  but  the  Mexican 
hollowed  to  his  peons  to  drive  them  on  through. 
Mr.  Service  told  him  to  either  pay  the  damage 
that  his  oxen  had  done  his  corn  or  drive  them 
off.  The  Mexican  told  him  he  would  do  neither. 
By  this  time  Mr.  Service  was  thoroughly  angry 
and  told  the  Mexican  that  he  would  either  take 
the  oxen  off  the  corn  or  one  or  the  other  of 
them  would  die.  Mr.  Service  was  unarmed  at 


138  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

the  time  and  he  wheeled  his  horse  around  and 
went  to  the  house  and  got  what  money  they  had 
there  and  his  rifle  and  returned  and  shot  the 
Mexican  dead.  He  then  made  the  peons  drive 
the  cattle  away,  and  he  started  for  Maxwell's 
ranch  on  his  pony.  After  reaching  the  foothills 
of  the  mountains  he  dismounted  and  threw  rocks 
at  his  horse  to  make  it  leave,  then  he  scrambled 
on  a  few  miles  through  the  young  timber  until  he 
came  to  a  hanging  rock  under  which  there  was 
a  kind  of  cave.  He  crept  into  this  place  to  rest 
and  snatch  sleep  if  possible. 

In  the  meantime  the  Mexicans  belonging  to 
the  train  gathered  up  all  the  Mexicans  they  could 
find  scattered  through  the  country,  and  without 
molesting  the  partner  of  Service,  started  out  to 
hunt  him.  Service  said  that  the  Mexicans  were 
so  close  to  where  he  was  lying  that  he  could 
hear  every  word  of  their  conversation  in  that 
still,  isolated  place.  He  knew  from  their  talk 
they  were  going  on  to  Maxwell's  ranch  where 
they  supposed  they  would  find  him.  About  ten 
o'clock  that  night  he  crept  out  of  his  hiding  place 
and  crawled  and  slipped  until  he  reached  Max- 
well's ranch,  then  he  went  into  the  stable  where 
Maxwell  kept  his  favorite  race  horse  and  led  him 
out  far  enough  from  the  house  to  be  safe,  then 
he  jumped  on  him  and  rode  him  until  the  faith- 
ful animal  laid  down  and  died  of  exhaustion.  He 
was  left  on  foot  some  75  miles  east  of  where  I 
was.  Service  was  so  weak  and  exhausted  from 
worry,  lack  of  sleep  and  nourishment  that  his  con- 
dition was  pitiable.  We  had  to  watch  him  for 
twenty-four  hours  to  keep  him  from  over-eating. 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  139 

One  ox  driver  who  was  an  Irishman  by  the  name 
of  Johnnie  Lynch  came  to  me  and  told  me  that 
the  other  ox  driver  had  told  him  he  knew  who 
Service  was  and  that  he  said  he  was  going  to 
"give  him  up"  when  they  reached  Denver  and 
that  when  we  got  into  Denver,  they  were  going 
to  "give  him  up"  and  collect  the  $1,000  reward 
for  him.  Johnnie  Lynch  said  that  he  did  not 
want  to  see  Service  put  in  irons,  and  that  he 
thought  Service  did  no  more  than  was  right. 
"Wan  more  of  those  devilish  Mexicans  out  uv 
th'  way  don't  hurt  nohow,"  was  his  comment. 
"Now,  Johnnie,"  says  I,  "you  go  to  my  assistant, 
Mark  Shearer,  and  tell  him  to  tell  the  wagon 
driver  that  if  he  undertakes  to  hand  Service  over 
to  the  authorities  at  Denver,  that  he  will  kill  him." 
When  we  got  to  within  five  miles  of  Denver, 
Mark  Shearer  went  around  to  the  driver  and  told 
him  to  get  back  in  the  wagon,  and  if  he  stuck  his 
head  outside  that  wagon  sheet,  he  would  use  it  for 
a  target.  The  driver  was  a  born  coward  and 
quietly  obeyed  and  remained  under  the  wagon 
sheet  until  we  were  forty  miles  beyond  Denver 
when  Mark  told  him  to  "come  to"  now  and  try 
to  be  a  man. 

The  next  night  after  Service  came  to  our  camp, 
he  wanted  to  help  stand  guard  over  the  sheep  at 
night  with  Barney  Hill,  my  night  herder.  He 
said  he  couldn't  sleep  nights.  Barney  told  him 
to  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep,  that  he  would  let  no 
one  harm  him.  He  went  to  sleep  and  along  about 
eleven  o'clock,  he  began  to  yell,  "There  they  come, 
there  they  come,  the  Mexicans,  etc.,"  and  he  fired 
his  revolver  and  made  a  general  stir.  We  man- 


140  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

aged  to  quiet  him  down.  He  was  delirious  and 
only  half  awake.  For  two  months  Service  got 
along  all  right. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  North  Platte  River 
the  snow  had  melted  so  the  river  was  running 
very  fast.  We  attempted  to  cross  the  sheep  on 
the  ferry.  125  sheep  were  placed  on  the  ferry 
boat  and  across  we  started.  Out  500  feet  from  the 
landing  on  the  east  side  where  we  went  in,  the 
ferryman  got  afraid  the  sheep  were  too  far  for- 
ward and  would  tip  the  boat,  so  he  attempted  to 
push  them  back,  and  pushed  some  of  the  sheep 
off  in  the  river.  All  the  sheep  then  made  a  rush 
to  follow  the  unfortunate  ones.  Barney  Hill,  who 
was  on  the  back  end  of  the  boat,  got  knocked  off 
and  could  not  swim  and  the  boys  had  a  good 
laugh  at  him  climbing  over  the  sheep,  looking 
like  a  drowned  rat  trying  to  get  out  of  a  molasses 
barrel.  Dick  Stewart  was  a  good  swimmer  and 
so  he  landed  back  on  the  boat. 

After  this  load  full,  the  boatman  would  not 
ferry  any  more  sheep  over  and  we  were  compelled 
to  swim  them.  We  would  call  the  goat  and  tell 
him  to  go  into  the  water.  The  goat  would  strike 
for  the  opening  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river, 
but  goat  or  no  goat,  the  sheep  would  not  attempt 
the  swim  unless  the  sun  was  shining.  The  moun- 
tains rose  right  at  the  edge  of  the  river,  conse- 
quently the  sun  only  struck  the  river  from  eleven 
o'clock  a.  m.  to  two  o'clock  p.  m.  and  we  could 
only  put  over  150  or  200  sheep  at  a  time.  This 
operation  took  six  days  to  perform.  Getting  4000 
sheep  over  a  river  under  these  trying  conditions 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  141 

were  anything  but  pleasant,  even  in  those  days, 
when  we  knew  no  better  method. 

At  this  ferry  a  funny  incident  occurred.  I  had 
a  sorrel,  blazed  face  mule,  and  while  we  were 
crossing  the  sheep  an  old  Irishman  on  his  way 
to  Montana  with  a  white  pony  and  a  blazed  face 
mule,  the  very  picture  of  my  mule,  crossed  the 
river  on  the  ferry.  I  saw  the  Irishman's  lay-out, 
but  Johnnie  Lynch  did  not  see  the  mule.  The 
next  morning  I  told  Johnnie  to  go  out  to  the  herd 
and  bring  my  mule  in.  The  old  Irishman  had 
camped  near  us  and  had  picketed  his  mule  out 
but  did  not  know  I  had  a  mule  so  near  like  his. 
Johnnie  saw  the  Irishman's  mule  picketed  out 
about  half  way  between  our  camp  and  our  herd, 
and  he  pulled  up  the  picket  and  started  on  to 
the  camp  with  the  mule.  Pretty  soon  the  angry 
old  Irishman  came  up  behind  Johnnie  and  knocked 
him  down  for  trying  to  steal  his  mule.  Johnnie 
ran  into  camp  and  got  my  carbine  and  started 
for  the  Irishman.  I  ran  after  him  and  asked 
him  what  he  was  "up  to"  and  he  told  me  he  had 
my  mule  coming  in  with  it  and  the  Irishman 
had  accosted  him  and  knocked  him  down  and  took 
the  mule  away  from  him.  About  that  time  the 
Irishman  had  come  "along  side"  me  and  explained 
his  position.  He  said  Johnnie  had  stolen  his  mule 
and  that  he  was  going  to  get  his  men  and 'hang 
him.  Mark  Shearer  then  begun  an  explanation 
but  the  two  Irishmen  were  on  the  "war  path" 
and  explanations  were  out  of  order.  When  we 
finally  got  them  straightened  out,  they  had  no 
very  friendly  feeling  for  each  other,  and  inwardly 
made  up  their  minds  to— BLANKETY-BLANK 


142  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

The  day  I  crossed  my  two  wagons  across  the 
river,  the  Irishman  was  on  the  boat  with  his  mule 
packed  with  provisions  and  clothing.  Johnnie 
Lynch  was  driving  one  yoke  of  oxen.  I  saw  the 
Irishman  raise  his  gun  off  of  the  floor  and  put 
it  to  his  shoulder  as  though  he  was  going  to 
shoot.  I  leveled  my  pistol  on  him  and  told  him 
to  drop  the  gun  or  he  was  a  dead  man.  He  drop- 
ped the  gun  and  I  made  him  walk  between  the 
wagons.  Mark  Shearer  picked  up  the  gun,  took 
the  cap  off  of  it,  wet  the  powder  in  the  tube  and 
handed  it  back  to  the  old  fellow  and  told  him  to 
make  no  more  attempts  to  kill  a  man.  We  took 
one  direction  at  the  forks  of  the  road  and  he 
took  another. 

About  300  miles  beyond  this  ferry  we  met  the 
white  pony  returning  but  we  never  saw  any  more 
of  the  Irishman.  It  is  very  probable  that  he  "met 
his  Waterloo"  somewhere  in  the  boundless  plains. 
We  encountered  a  band  of  the  Sioux  and  Ute 
Indians,  some  of  the  same  tribe  that  had  killed 
General  Custer.  Something  like  150  or  200  came 
to  camp.  A  few  of  them  could  talk  English.  At 
the  time  they  came  to  the  camp,  they  were  in  a 
strange  mood.  It  took  some  courage  and  diplo- 
macy on  my  part  to  keep  my  men  encouraged 
and  to  appear  at  ease  with  the  Red  Men. 

I  went  up  to  the  chief  and  told  them  I  had  a 
large  drove  of  sheep  to  take  to  Montana,  and  that 
I  must  necessarily  pass  through  their  hunting 
grounds,  but  was  willing  to  pay  them  for  the 
liberty  I  was  taking.  This  seemed  to  please  the 
Indians  and  I  told  them  we  would  eat  before  we 
proceeded  to  business.  We  soon  had  some  bacon, 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  143 

bread  and  coffee  ready  which  we  offered  to  our 
guests  before  we  began  to  eat.  After  they  had 
the  first  "helping"  then  we  all  began  to  eat  our 
rations,  after  which  we  passed  the  corn  cob  pipes 
and  tobacco  and  while  we  talked  we  smoked.  I 
gave  them  two  caddies  of  tobacco,  200  pounds  of 
bacon,  a  hundredweight  of  flour,  several  papers 
of  soda,  several  pounds  of  salt,  and  a  large  bucket 
of  coffee. 

One  Indian  said  that  in  order  to  preserve  peace 
and  to  protect  us  on  our  route  ten  of  them  would 
travel  with  us  through  the  wildest  portion  of  the 
country. 

The  strange  escort  remained  with  us  two  days, 
and  when  we  were  almost  to  Fort  Bridger,  one  of 
the  Indians  said  that  we  would  have  no  trouble 
until  after  we  had  passed  Fort  Bridger  and  he 
did  not  think  we  would  encounter  any  perils, 
even  then. 

When  they  were  determined  to  decamp,  I  took 
ten  silver  dollars  out  of  my  pocket,  and  gave  each 
one  of  them  a  silver  dollar.  This  pleased  the 
Indians  greatly  and  they  shook  hands  with  me 
and  departed. 

When  we  arrived  in  Fort  Bridger  I  had  my 
sheep  driven  on  past  the  fort,  and  stopped  to  see 
the  commanding  officer.  I  asked  him  what  their 
rules  were  for  traveling  through  the  Indian 
country.  He  told  me  that  a  large  caravan  of  20C 
wagons  would  start  out  in  a  few  days  and  I  would 
have  to  drive  the  sheep  on  outside  of  the  fort 
where  I  could  get  good  range  for  the  sheep  and 
wait  until  the  other  emigrants  came  up.  I  thanked 
him,  but  I  told  Mark  Shearer  that  I  believed  we 


144  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

could  make  it  alright  without  the  caravans.  So  on 
we  started.  The  sheep  didn't  have  to  be  driven; 
they  drove  us.  By  daylight  those  sheep  were  al- 
ways ready  to  go  on  toward  their  goal.  They 
would  pick  and  run  ahead  seldom  ever  stopping 
until  about  the  middle  of  the  day.  It  was  our 
rule  to  stop  and  eat  or  rest  when  the  sheep  started. 
Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction,  and  it  is  the  truth 
that  we  would  often  make  thirty-five  or  forty 
miles  a  day  with  those  sheep.  The  herdsman 
would  follow  the  goat  and  the  sheep  followed 
the  goat.  When  the  sheep  were  a  little  too  in- 
dustrious, the  herdsman  made  the  goat  lay  down, 
then  the  sheep  would  lay  down  all  around  him. 
Sometimes  they  would  lay  down  about  five  or  six 
o'clock,  then  we  would  eat.  But  if  they  got  up 
and  started  on  we  went,  and  they  seldom  ever 
stopped  to  rest  until  eight  or  nine  o'clock.  The 
four  drives  averaged  from  seven  to  ten  miles  a 
drive.  In  making  this  trip  from  Maxwell's  ranch 
in  New  Mexico  to  Virginia  City,  Montana,  I 
crossed  seventeen  rivers  with  those  sheep  and 
arrived  in  Virginia  City  with  less  than  100  sheep 
short.  I  sold  a  few  to  the  Snake  Indians  for 
from  $5  to  $8  each.  Of  course,  this  was  in  trade, 
but  it  pleased  them  equally  as  well  as  if  it  had 
been  a  gift. 

The  next  band  of  Indians  we  came  into  after 
leaving  the  Sioux,  were  the  Snake  Indians.  They 
were  situated  on  the  Snake  River  one  hundred 
miles  from  Virginia  City.  Snake  River  is  one  of 
the  most  important  tributaries  of  the  Columbia. 
Instead  of  making  a  treaty  with  these  Indians,  I 
traded  them  sheep  and  a  caddy  of  tobacco  for 


THE   SECOND    WILLIAM    PENN  145 

buffalo  robes  and  deer  skins,  and  they  seemed  as 
well  satisfied  as  if  I  had  given  them  the  sheep 
and  tobacco  gratis. 

About  one  hundred  miles  from  where  we  met 
the  Snake  Indians,  we  came  to  a  toll  bridge.  Here 
I  met  my  worthy  partner  for  the  first  time  since 
I  had  sent  him  on  his  "way  rejoicing."  Mr.  Dillon 
had  told  the  keeper  of  the  toll  bridge  that  he  had 
seven  thousand  sheep  on  the  road  and  they  would 
have  to  pass  over  his  toll  bridge. 

The  keeper  of  the  toll  bridge  was  on  the  look- 
out for  us  because  the  report  that  Dillon  had 
made  would  swell  his  finances  $350.  Inasmuch 
as  the  toll  across  the  bridge  was  5c  per  head. 
When  we  arrived  at  the  bridge  the  keeper  told 
me  his  charge  would  be  $350.  I  told  him  I  could 
not  pay  the  price,  but  he  said  Dillon  would  pay 
the  toll.  I  asked  him  what  Dillon  had  to  do 
with  the  sheep.  "Why,"  he  said,  "they  are  Dil- 
lon's sheep."  I  told  him  they  were  not  Dillon's 
sheep,  they  were  mine,  and  I  showed  him  my  bill 
of  sale.  He  said  that  nevertheless  they  were  Dil- 
lon's sheep.  I  asked  him  to  describe  Joe  Dillon 
to  me.  He  did  so,  and  did  it  to  a  "tyt."  "Now," 
I  said  to  him,  "you  go  up  on  the  hill  and  count 
those  sheep.  They  were  laying  down  up  on  the 
hill  in  a  kind  of  a  swag. 

There  was  a  Missourian  there  and  he  told  the 
keeper  he  was  a  sheep  man,  that  his  father  was 
a  large  Missouri  stock  man,  and  that  he  could 
approximate  the  number  at  a  glance.  The  way 
those  sheep  lay  together,  it  did  not  look  as  if 
there  was  more  than  1000  sheep.  I  asked  him 
if  he  thought  there  was  over  a  thousand  sheep 


—10 


146  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

there  and  he  said  he  did  not  think  there  were.  The 
toll  keeper  said  that  when  those  sheep  went  skip- 
ping across  the  bridge,  it  "looked  goldarned  like 
there  mout  be  a  million  uv  'em,  and  they  must 
'a  bin  three  mile  long,  be  blasted." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "of  course  you  can  count  them." 
"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  have  counted  lots  of  sheep,  and 
will  count  them."  I  went  up  to  the  station  and 
made  arrangements  that  if  he  did  not  succeed  in 
counting  the  sheep,  I  would  pay  him  $75  in  to- 
bacco or  sheep,  but  that  I  had  no  money.  The 
toll  keeper  said  he  would  neither  take  sheep  nor 
tobacco,  "but,"  he  said,  "I  will  take  a  draft  on 
the  Virginia  City  Bank  for  $75.00."  I  told  the 
driver  to  drive  the  sheep  across.  "First,"  I  said, 
"you  get  the  goat  up  and  start  him  off,  then 
keep  the  sheep  just  as  close  together  as  you  can 
and  hop  them  across  in  a  'whoop.' '  He  did  this 
and  it  was  impossible  for  the  "counter"  to  count 
them. 

About  300  miles  from  this  bridge,  Mr.  Service 
quit  me.  He  bought  a  half  interest  in  a  stock  of 
cattle  and  in  a  toll  road  in  that  section,  and  I 
heard  no  more  from  him  until  some  25  years 
later,  when  he  again  leaped  into  the  limelight. 

It  seems  that  he  had  made  a  wise  purchase 
because  so  many  trains  passed  over  his  toll  road. 
He  traded  his  fat  cattle  to  the  immigrants  for 
their  poor  plugs.  He  bought  up  all  the  poor  cat- 
tle he  could  and  would  fatten  them  and  trade 
them  off  for  three  or  four  poor,  jaded  animals. 
The  profits  were  enormous. 

On  our  route  from  this  toll  bridge  there  was 
no  particular  incident  occurred.  Virginia  City 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  147 

was  a  fine  little  village  of  about  3500  inhabi- 
tants. The  estimate  of  gold  taken  out  of  the 
creeks  running  through  Virginia  City  was  $100,- 
000,000,  mostly  placer  diggings,  but  it  was  en- 
tirely abandoned  at  this  time. 

However,  at  the  time  we  were  there  with  the 
sheep,  there  was  about  thirty  Chinamen  prospect- 
ing a  lot  of  200  square  feet.  The  price  set  to 
them  by  the  owner  was  $3000.  He  took  $200 
down  and  $200  per  week  until  the  $3000  was  paid. 
The  man  they  bought  from  agreed  to  see  they 
had  the  right  to  use  the  water  in  the  creek.  The 
superintendent  of  the  Chinamen  had  this  man  go 
with  them  to  the  mayor  of  the  city  to  ask  the 
city  to  protect  them.  The  mayor  then  called  on 
the  city  marshall  and  they  agreed  to  see  that  the 
Chinamen  were  not  molested  from  getting  the 
water  from  the  creek.  The  stream  was  very  small 
and  did  not  have  very  much  water,  so  the  owners 
built  a  little  dam  and  put  in  a  tread  wheel  for 
the  purpose  of  raising  the  water,  so  as  to  have 
a  fall  of  water  to  wash  the  dirt  in  their  sluice  box. 

After  they  had  mined  two  weeks,  twenty-five 
or  thirty  white  miners  concluded  that  the  China- 
ment  shouldn't  work  in  the  territory  and  they 
went  above  the  Chinamen  on  the  creek — about 
500  yards  or  so,  and  built  a  large  dam  across  the 
creek  with  a  wide  opening,  and  put  in  their  gate 
and  stopped  the  Chinamen  from  getting  water. 

When  the  Chinamen  were  thus  shut  off,  they 
went  to  the  mayor  with  their  complaint.  The 
mayor  promised  to  investigate  the  matter,  and 
told  them  to  go  on  prospecting  on  their  other 
lots  farther  down  the  creek  for  the  purpose  of 


148  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

seeing  what  other  property  they  would  want  to 
buy,  while  he  investigated  the  cause  of  trouble. 

The  mayor  and  the  marshall  knew  what  the 
miners  were  up  to,  but  said  nothing  then  about 
it.  They  were  aware  that  the  miners  wanted  to 
raise  the  big  gate  and  let  the  water  all  out  at 
once. 

There  was  an  old  building  fairly  close  to  the 
dam  the  white  miners  had  built,  and  the  marshall 
and  two  other  men  secreted  themselves  in  the 
old  house  to  watch  the  dam.  At  about  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  two  men  went  in  there 
with  their  crow-bars  to  raise  the  gate  so  all  the 
water  could  waste,  and  wash  out  the  Chinamen's 
machinery. 

Slipping  upon  the  miners  engaged  in  their  work 
of  depredation,  the  marshall  pulled  his  gun  on 
them,  and  marched  them  to  the  city  lockup.  The 
next  morning  a  few  of  the  miners  got  together 
and  were  going  to  release  the  miners  in  the  lock- 
up. Then  the  mayor  ordered  the  fire  bells  rung 
and  sent  runners  out  over  the  city  calling  the 
people  together.  Among  the  people  who  came 
to  the  "consultation"  were  many  miners.  The 
marshal  let  the  men  out  of  the  "cooler,"  and  took 
their  names,  then  the  mayor  made  a  speech  to 
the  citizens  and  got  their  sentiments.  He  asked 
the  citizens  as  a  community  if  it  would  not  be 
better  to  let  the  Chinamen  alone  and  let  them 
work  tneir  property,  than  to  drive  them  out  and 
destroy  their  dam.  He  wanted  the  opinion  of  the 
people.  He  wanted  to  know  how  many  of  the 
citizens  were  willing  to  let  the  Chinamen  alone 
and  let  them  continue  to  operate  their  property. 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  149 

The  citizens  who  wanted  the  Chinamen  let  alone 
were  about  ten  to  one  of  the  miners. 

The  mayor  now  called  on  two  or  three  promi- 
nent speakers  of  the  city  to  make  a  talk  before 
the  people  who  told  why  they  believed  the  China- 
men should  be  left  alone,  then  the  mayor  called 
on  a  representative  of  the  miners  to  tell  the  people 
why  they  should  want  to  ruin  the  Chinamen's 
work.  None  of  the  miners  would  reply. 

That  night  the  Council  passed  an  ordinance 
prohibiting,  under  severe  pains  and  penalties,  the 
willful  destruction  of  property,  and  consequently 
the  Chinamen  were  left  to  pursue  their  work. 
The  dam  proved  an  immense  benefit  to  the  city 
and  surrounding  country,  and  other  people  began 
mining  their  lots,  and  using  the  water  that  had 
collected  during  the  night  and  saving  it  over,  sev- 
eral mines  were  supplied  with  water. 

I  was  in  a  hurry  to  settle  up  with  Mr.  Dillon 
at  this  time  and  get  started  back  to  the  States, 
going  by  the  way  of  Salt  Lake  City  in  company 
with  two  men  who  were  going  through  with  an 
ambulance.  I  remained  in  Salt  Lake  City  two 
weeks  when  the  roof  on  the  Great  Mormon  Tem- 
ple as  about  three-fourths  finished.  At  the  time 
I  was  there,  the  temple  was  about  four  feet  above 
the  ground  and  workmen  had  been  continuously 
at  work  for  seven  years.  Up  to  that  time,  I  was 
the  only  Gentile  who  had  ever  explored  the  under- 
ground workings  of  the  temple.  I  went  from 
Salt  Lake  to  Denver. 

I  had  calculated  to  pre-empt  a  hundred  and 
sixty  acres  of  land  in  or  about  Denver,  and  stop- 
ped over  there  for  a  few  days.  At  that  time  I 


ISO  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

could  have  taken  160  acres  where  the  Union  De- 
pot now  stands  about  the  center  of  the  city  of 
Denver.  However,  like  many  another  boy,  I  took 
a  sudden  notion  to  go  home  and  see  Mother  first, 
and  before  I  took  possession  of  this  valuable 
"dirt,"  I  pulled  out  on  the  first  coach  going  toward 
Kansas  City.  Stage  fare  cost  me  nothing  because 
I  rode  with  Barnum-Vickeroy  &  Veil. 

When  we  got  to  Booneville,  where  I  used  to  live 
with  Colonel  A.  G.  Boone,  when  I  drove  the  stage 
on  the  Denver  line,  the  old  Colonel  insisted  that 
I  stay  with  him.  He  said  he  had  2,500  head  of 
sheep,  half  of  which  with  all  the  increase,  would 
be  mine,  if  I  would  stay  and  take  care  of  them 
five  years.  I  told  him  that  I  had  planned  to 
homestead  a  160  acres  up  near  Denver  and  that  as 
soon  as  I  had  had  my  visit  with  my  mother  I 
wanted  to  go  to  Denver,  and  could  not  take  up 
his  proposition. 

At  that  time  Colonel  Boone  talked  a  great  deal 
about  the  Indians.  He  told  me  they  were  being 
shamefully  treated;  that  the  soldiers  were  making 
war  on  them,  etc.,  and  said  that  it  was  his  opinion 
that  if  the  Government  would  put  a  guard  around 
the  white  people  and  keep  them  from  shooting 
the  Indians,  there  would  be  no  more  Indian 
troubles. 

He  told  me  that  the  conductors  along  the  Long 
Route  between  Fort  Lyon  and  Fort  Larned,  were 
having  no  end  of  trouble.  He  told  me  that  sev- 
eral tribes  had  asked  him  about  me,  and  said  they 
seemed  curious  to  know  whether  or  not  I  would 
ever  return. 

After    we    left    Colonel    Boone's    place,    going 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  151 

toward  Independence,  we  met  several  tribes,  some 
of  whom  knew  me  just  as  soon  as  they  "got  their 
eyes  on  me,"  but  I  did  not  understand  their  lan- 
guage, and  their  interpreter  told  me  that  they 
wanted  to  know  if  I  was  coming  back  on  the 
route.  Several  spoke  about  Colonel  Leavenworth 
and  Satanta  and  asked  for  news  concerning  the 
Little  White  Chief,  for  that  was  the  way  they 
loved  to  remember  their  little  boy  friend. 

There  was  something  like  45  or  50  Indians  in 
this  gang,  and  the  driver  was  anxious  to  get  rid 
of  them,  for  he  was  not  only  afraid  of  them,  be- 
cause of  the  trouble  they  had  been  having  with 
the  Long  Route  conductors,  but  they  wanted  to 
be  "driving  on"  getting  nearer  their  destination. 
I  told  the  driver  to  let  me  manage  the  Indians  and 
we  would  "pull  through"  all  right. 

I  told  the  Indians  to  sit  down  around  us  and 
I  would  get  some  coffee  for  them  and  a  very  small 
lunch.  The  conductors  never  had  anything 
hardly,  and  gave  the  Indians  nothing  but  abuse. 
I  managed  to  get  together  from  the  conductor's 
mess,  a  small  lunch,  which  they  ate,  and  I  invited 
them  to  go  with  us  to  our  next  stopping  place, 
fifteen  miles  distant,  and  eat  with  us  properly. 

On  our  way  to  the  next  stopping  place,  how- 
ever, these  Indians  were  joined  by  other  small 
bands  which  kept  collecting.  When  we  camped 
for  lunch  and  to  let  our  mules  go  out  to  eat,  the 
Indians  let  their  ponies  graze,  also.  As  provisions 
were  scarce,  we  had  a  very  slim  meal,  but  were  all 
good  humored  over  it. 

When  the  coach  was  ready  to  resume  its  jour- 
ney, I  shook  hands  with  every  one  of  the  Indians 


152  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

and  told  them  I  was  going  to  the  States  and 
wanted  that  they  come  to  see  us  there.  There 
were  eight  other  passengers,  besides  myself,  on 
the  coach,  who  laughingly  said  that  they  had 
crossed  the  plains  several  times  and  had  never 
witnessed  such  a  scene  between  white  man  and 
Indian,  only  when  they  traveled  with  me. 

There  were  five  conductors.  Four  conductors 
were  on  the  road  all  the  time  and  one  resting  all 
the  time.  In  other  words,  while  one  conductor 
rested  one  week,  the  other  four  worked  until  the 
time  came  for  him  to  rest  and  the  other  work. 
We  usually  rested  either  in  Kansas  City  or 
Santa  Fe. 

Before  leaving  this  chapter,  I  desire  to  tell  my 
readers  what  brought  Mr.  Service  into  the  lime- 
light again.  About  twenty-five  years  after  he 
killed  the  Mexican,  he  sold  out  his  ranch  and  cat- 
tle and  took  the  money  he  had  on  hands,  which 
amounted  to  something  like  $43,000.00,  and  de- 
posited it  in  the  Denver  National  Bank  of  Den- 
ver, Colorado,  and  went  to  Springer,  New  Mex- 
ico, in  the  locality  of  where  he  had  killed  the 
Mexican.  He  went  to  the  sheriff  and  asked  him 
if  he  had  ever  heard  of  the  man,  Service,  wanted 
in  that  country  for  the  murder  of  the  rich  Mexi- 
can. The  sheriff  told  him  that  he  "guessed"  that 
the  murder  had  occurred  before  his  day,  but  that 
he  had  heard  of  it,  and  it  must  date  some  thirty 
years  back. 

Mr.  Service  asked  the  sheriff  if  the  murderer 
had  ever  been  back  there  to  stand  trial,  and 
whether  or  not  the  reward  that  had  been  offered 
at  the  time  of  the  murder  was  still  good?  "No," 


THE   SECOND    WILLIAM   PENN  153 

the  sheriff  said,  "I  do  not  think  the  reward  would 
be  any  good."  The  sheriff  went  on  to  tell  Mr. 
Service  that  he  had  been  told  by  persons  who 
claimed  to  have  knowledge  of  the  matter,  that 
Service  had  served  his  country  well  to  have 
killed  the  Mexican. 

"Mr.  Sheriff,"  said  Mr.  Service,  "I  am  the  man 
who  killed  that  Mexican."  The  sheriff  looked 
him  over  and  said,  "that  can't  be,  you  are  too  old 
a  man  for  that."  Mr.  Service  had  whiskers  12 
inches  long  and  perfectly  gray.  His  features  were 
so  transformed  that  his  old  partner  did  not  recog- 
nize him.  Mr.  Service  told  the  sheriff  that  never- 
theless, he  was  the  man,  and  that  the  reward  had 
been  offered  for. 

Mr.  Service  told  the  sheriff  that  he  wanted  to 
"give  up"  and  gave  him  $200  and  asked  him  to 
hire  a  good  lawyer  for  him  because  he  was  un- 
acquainted in  the  section,  and  I  want  you  to  take 
out  a  warrant  against  me.  I  want  to  be  legally 
acquitted  of  crime  and  be  a  "free  man  once 


more." 


After  talking  to  the  sheriff,  he  went  to  see  his 
old  partner,  who  did  not  recognize  him.  He  told 
him  that  he  had  more  of  the  worldly  goods  than 
the  ranch  was  worth,  but  would  like  to  have  a 
settlement,  and  invoice  his  own  belongings,  as 
well  as  the  property  his  partner  had  gotten  to- 
gether since  their  separation,  and  said  they  would 
strike  a  balance  and  have  a  settlement.  The  old 
partner,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten,  said,  "no, 
I  won't  do  it,"  he  said,  "you  took  the  money  from 
the  house  when  you  left,  and  I  had  to  pay  Max- 
well for  his  race  horse."  "Very  true,"  said  Mr. 


154  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

Service,  "you  have  had  use  of  the  farm  these  long 
years,  and  would  that  compensate  you  for  what 
you  have  paid  out?"  But,  he  added,  "the  hay  on 
the  place  has  brought  you  about  $2,000  a  year, 
and  I  think  it  is  best  for  us  to  have  a  settlement." 
The  partner  would  hear  to  no  settlement  being 
arrived  at,  saying  that  he  should  have  what  was 
there.  "Well,"  said  Service,  "we  will  pass  re- 
ceipts." Each  took  a  receipt  from  the  other, 
shook  hands  and  bade  the  other  good-bye.  Mr. 
Service  was  a  broad-minded,  liberal  fellow,  and 
had  fully  intended  to  resume  the  partnership  with 
his  partner  and  share  and  share  alike  in  his  money 
earned  while  he  was  away  from  the  ranch.  "By- 
the-bye,  I  will  let  you  look  over  this  small  book," 
said  Mr.  Service  as  he  handed  his  bank  book 
showing  the  balance  due  him  at  the  National 
Bank  of  Denver.  "Why,"  said  the  partner,  "you 
have  $43,000  in  this  book  to  your  credit."  "Yes! 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Service,  "had  we  invoiced  our  goods 
together,  half  this  amount  would  have  been  yours 
together  with  other  moneys  I  have  in  other 
banks."  That  talk  completed  the  settlement  and 
while  the  partner  was  completely  crestfallen, 
Service  shaved  and  became  a  white  man  and  free 
citizen  of  the  States. 


Daugherty,  a  Silk  and  Linen  Drummer,  Contracts 
to  Build  a  Cellar. 

At  Fort  Zara  I  met  another  old  friend.  Bill 
Daugherty  was  there  keeping  the  station.  Noth- 
ing would  do  him  but  I  should  stay  over  there  a 
week  or  so.  Daugherty  was  a  natural  born  Irish- 
man who  had  "kissed  the  Blarney  stone,"  full  of 
wit  and  humor.  He  went  to  the  coach  and  took 
my  "grip  sack"  off  and  took  it  to  the  house,  and 
said  I  had  to  stay.  I  liked  that  first  rate,  but  I 
did  hate  to  lose  the  time. 

Daugherty  came  to  Kansas  in  1862,  drumming 
for  a  house  that  sold  fine  linens,  laces  and  silks, 
and  had  never  done  anything  but  sell  silks,  etc. 
He  was  sitting  in  a  kind  of  a  tavern  one  morning 
and  chanced  to  see  an  advertisement  in  the  paper 
that  struck  his  "funny  side."  A  gentleman  living 
at  the  corner  of  Fifth  and  Shawnee  Streets  in 
Leavenworth,  Kansas,  had  advertised  for  a  con- 
tractor to  build  him  a  cellar,  and  the  advertise- 
ment said  that  none  "but  experienced  contractors 
need  apply."  The  drummer,  Bill  Daugherty,  de- 
cided he  would  call  upon  the  gentleman  who 
wanted  "an  experienced  contractor."  When  he 
arrived  at  the  place  specified  in  the  advertisement 
he  found  it  to  be  a  large  general  merchandise 
store.  Daugherty  introduced  himself  to  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  place  and  told  him  that  he  was  an 
experienced  contractor.  "And,"  said  Daugherty, 
"I  see  you  are  in  a  hurry  for  the  cellar,  sure  and 


156  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

I  am  the  laddie  that  can  build  that  cellar  quicker 
than  a  bat  can  wink  its  eye.  I'm  from  auld  Ire- 
land, and  conthracting  is  me  pusiness."  The 
merchant  told  him  that  he  wanted  the  cellar  built 
right  away,  and  showed  him  the  ground  he  want- 
ed it  built  on — which  adjoined  his  business  house 
on  the  corner.  Daugherty  asked  the  merchant 
how  much  time  he  would  allow  him  to  build  the 
cellar  in,  and  the  merchant  told  him  not  longer 
than  eight  or  ten  days.  "Well,"  said  Bill,  "I  will 
do  it  in  less  time." 

"Now,  sir,  you  furnish  me  the  tools,  shovels, 
picks,  wheelbarrows,  and  running  plank  to  the 
number  I  want,  and  I  will  go  to  work  on  your 
cellar,  Friday,  if  you  will  give  me  $100."  The 
merchant  said  he  could  not  afford  to  give  more 
than  $80  for  the  job  and  that  he  would  have  to 
take  $20  in  trade.  "Alright,  py  golly,"  Bill  ans- 
wered, "I  will  take  the  job  that  way,  providing 
you  put  it  in  writing."  The  contract  was  drawn 
up  and  said  that  the  cellar  was  to  be  commenced 
on  at  7  o'clock  Saturday  morning.  The  merchant 
was  to  furnish  all  tools  or  pay  for  the  tools 
Daugherty  bought  up  to  a  certain  given  number. 
Friday  night  Daugherty  had  all  his  tools  on  the 
"job"  and  made  everything  ready  to  commence 
work  Saturday  morning.  Bright  and  early  Sat- 
urday morning  Bill  was  there  and  he  had  two 
wagons  from  the  saloon  on  the  ground  also. 

Thursday  evening  when  he  first  made  the 
agreement  to  build  the  cellar,  he  went  to  the 
saloon  and  told  the  "Bys"  to  come  to  Fifth  and 
Shawnee  Streets  Saturday,  that  he  was  going  to 
give  a  "B,"  and  it  was  to  be  the  best  time,  and  the 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  157 

liveliest  time,  and  the  finest  "B"  they  ever  saw. 
He  told  the  boys  at  the  saloon  all  about  his  con- 
tract with  the  merchant,  and  as  they  were  mostly 
Irish,  they  quickly  agreed  to  help  out  with  the 
plan. 

Bill  Daugherty  had  the  saloon  man  send  down 
four  bartenders,  and  he  had  a  keg  of  beer  placed 
at  equal  distances  apart  with  mugs  and  glasses 
and  the  bartenders  to  draw  the  beer,  and  the  fun 
commenced.  Before  seven  o'clock  more  than  fifty 
men  were  on  the  job.  The  alley  behind  the  store 
building  was  five  feet  under  grade  and  he  put  run- 
ning plank  on  the  ground  from  the  front  of  the 
ground  running  into  the  alley,  and  put  four  wheel- 
barrows on  them  and  a  set  of  men  shoveling.  The 
work  progressed  nicely  with  the  Irishmen  work- 
ing and  drinking  and  singing.  Bill  Daugherty 
was  in  his  glory  and  the  old  merchant  was  "feel- 
n'  blue."  Bill  kept  encouraging  his  workmen 
telling  them  that  some  "great  big  doin's  was  a- 
comin'  off  along  about  eaten'  time."  The  restau- 
rant man  came  with  a  fine  dinner  and  furnished 
everything  in  the  eating  line  but  the  coffee,  and 
the  saloon  man  was  there  with  the  "drinks." 

At  one  o'clock  they  all  started  to  work  and  at 
4  o'clock  that  afternoon  they  had  completed  the 
cellar,  and  the  engineer  had  inspeced  it,  and 
passed  his  judgment  that  it  was  a  "good  job." 
Daugherty  went  in  the  store  to  get  "paid  off," 
he  was  feeling  pretty  good. 

He  told  the  merchant  that  he  wanted  a  nice  vest 
for  himself,  a  pair  of  shoes,  and  a  shirt  and  hat. 
Then,  he  told  the  merchant  that  he  wanted  to 
see  a  fine  paisley  shawl,  one  that  "you  would  like 


158  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

to  see  your  wife  wear."  The  merchant  showed 
him  an  $8  shawl,  but  it  did  not  please  the  fancy 
of  old  Bill  Daugherty.  "Show  me  a  shawl  that 
you  would  be  pleased  to  see  your  wife  wear,  one 
that  you  would  be  proud  to  see  her  wear  to 
church,  that  old  shawl  is  not  genteel."  This  time 
the  merchant  took  down  a  $16  shawl  and  after 
close  examination,  and  the  assurance  that  it  was 
the  best  one  he  had  in  the  house,  Daugherty  ac- 
cepted the  shawl.  "Now,"  said  Daugherty,  "I 
want  my  cash."  The  merchant  counted  out  the 
balance  of  the  money  to  him,  and  said  he  would 
wrap  the  shawl  for  the  "contractor."  The  mer- 
chant began  to  wrap  the  shawl  up  for  Bill  and 
Bill  told  him  that  "that  won't  do,  a  lady  wouldn't 
have  a  fine  shawl  wrapped  up  like  that,  let  me 
ahold  of  the  strings  and  fine  papers."  Daugherty 
called  for  tissue  paper,  he  wrapped  his  purchase 
up  neatly  and  then  called  for  ribbon  with  which 
to  tie  it.  He  wanted  green  and  red  ribbons.  After 
encasing  the  article  in  the  tissue  paper  bound 
around  with  ribbons,  he  put  a  piece  of  wrapping 
paper  about  it,  and  left  the  store,  and  its  room 
full  of  amused  spectators. 

Bill  went  from  the  store  straight  to  the  home 
of  the  old  merchant  and  told  the  wife  of  the 
merchant  that  he  was  "frash  from  auld  Ireland, 
and  that  he  had  one  shawl  left,  from  his  large 
stock,  that  he  would  sell  her  real  cheaply.  He 
commenced  to  talk  to  the  lady,  and  all  the  time 
he  was  talking  he  was  unwinding  the  papers 
from  around  the  shawl.  She  looked  at  him  in 
amazement,  and  he  told  her  that  he  had  sold  out 
a  large  collection  of  fine  shawls  that  he  had 


THE   SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  159 

brought  from  Paris,  and  that  her  husband  had 
seen  this  shawl  and  greatly  admired  it,  and  that 
he  had  said  to  him  in  the  presence  of  several  other 
men,  that  he  would  like  to  see  his  wife  wear  a 
shawl  like  it."  She  told  him  that  the  shawl  must 
be  very  choice. 

At  last  the  wrappers  were  all  off  the  shawl, 
and  he  threw  it  about  her  shoulders  and  told  her 
to  look  in  the  glass.  He  slapped  his  hands  to- 
gether, saying,  "beautiful,  beautiful — real  Pari- 
sian." On  talked  the  talkative  Bill,  until  at  last 
he  saw  he  had  won  the  lady  to  his  "view  of  think- 
ing that  she  was  a  real  Parisian  figure  with  the 
shawl  gracefully  draped  about  her  shoulders,  and 
she  asked  him  what  he  would  take  for  it. 

He  told  her  that  she  could  have  it  for  just  $65. 
and  before  she  could  catch  her  breath,  he  wheeled 
her  about  where  she  could  see  her  profile  in  the 
glass,  and  told  her  to  "just  look  at  the  reflection, 
could  anything  be  handsomer?"  He  told  her  that 
it  was  the  last  one  he  had,  and  was  cheap  at  the 
price,  that  her  husband  had  said  so,  and  that  he 
said  he  would  like  to  see  her  wear  it. 

She  paid  the  money  for  it  and  he  departed.  He 
met  one  of  his  cronies  down  the  street  and  told 
him  about  the  transaction.  "Now,"  said  he,  "you 
go  down  and  tell  him  that  he  had  better  come 
over  to  the  saloon  and  treat,  and  I  will  have  the 
other  boys  over  there  hidden  in  the  back  room, 
and  we  will  all  get  a  glass  and 

"All  go  down  to  Rowser,  to  Rowser,  to  Rowser, 

We'll  all  go  down  to  Rowser  and  get  a  drink  of 
beer." 


160  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

Well,  the  merchant  "fell  to"  and  the  treats  cost 
him  in  round  figures  the  sum  of  $11.00.  When 
Daugherty  left  to  catch  his  stage  out  from  there 
to  Fort  Zara,  he  was  still  treating  the  crowd,  and 
getting  pretty  full,  himself. 

After  the  affair  at  Leavenworth,  Bill  Daugh- 
erty came  to  Kansas  City  on  the  boat,  and  asked 
the  stage  company  if  they  needed  a  man  to  care 
for  some  of  their  stations.  Mr.  Barnum  employed 
Bill  and  he  went  to  Fort  Zara,  out  among  the 
Indians,  where  Bill's  tongue  helped  him  to  get 
along  very  nicely  with  them. 

When  he  chanced  to  allude  to  Fort  Leaven- 
worth,  he  always  told  the  story  of  his  "contract- 
ing" at  Leavenworth  on  the  corner  of  Fifth  and 
Shawnee  Streets.  Out  there  at  Fort  Zara,  Bill 
enjoyed  himself  as  only  Irishmen  can,  but  his 
stumbling  block  was  Captain  Conkey,  who  was 
the  biggest  crank  on  earth,  "take  it  from  me," 
for  he  and  I  had  a  little  "set-to."  Daugherty  al- 
ways sent  his  "red,  white  and  blue  regards  to  the 
old  merchant"  by  whosoever  went  to  Leaven- 
worth. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Captain  Conkey.  ;  U 

Captain  Conkey  was  a  "jackass"  to  make  a  long 
story  short.  He  had  a  company  of  soldiers  at 
Fort  Zara  for  the  purpose  of  escorting  the  mail 
from  one  station  to  another.  Once  on  my  way 
East  with  a  coach  full  of  passengers,  a  snow 
storm  began  to  rage,  at  about  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  soon  after  I  had  left  Fort  Lamed.  It 
snowed  so  hard  that  at  8  o'clock  we  couldn't  tell 
where  the  road  was,  and  the  passengers  took  it 
time  and  about  with  me  running  along  the  road 
in  front  of  the  coach  to  find  the  road. 

We  got  to  Fort  Zara  at  ten  o'clock  that  night, 
the  orderly  sergeant  came  after  the  mail  about 
500  yards  from  the  soldiers'  camp.  I  told  the 
sergeant  that  I  wanted  an  escort  at  nine  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  He  gave  Captain  Conkey  my 
orders  and  the  Captain  told  him  to  go  back  and 
arrest  me  and  put  me  in  chains.  The  First  Lieu- 
tenant told  the  Captain  that  I  would  be  there  in 
the  morning;  that  they  had  no  place  to  sleep  me, 
so  the  Captain  let  me  alone  that  night,  but  the 
next  morning  he  sent  his  orderly  after  me.  When 
the  orderly  came  to  the  station,  he  said  to  me, 
"that  old  fool  of  a  captain  sent  me  down  here  to 
arrest  you."  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted  with 
me.  The  orderly  told  me  that  he  was  to  arrest 
me  for  ordering  an  escort.  I  told  the  orderly 
to  "fire  away,"  I  would  go  over  and  see  the  old 
"mossback." 


162  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

Their  quarters  was  a  little  dugout  in  the  side 
of  the  hill  along  the  river  bank.  They  had  a 
gunny  sack  for  the  door,  and  I  went  into  the 
first  room,  which  was  used  for  a  kitchen,  and 
the  cook  told  me  to  go  to  the  next  room,  it  had 
a  gunny  sack  door,  too,  the  First  and  Second 
Lieutenants  were  in  there.  They  told  me  to  go 
on  to  the  next  room  that  the  Captain's  headquar- 
ters was  in  the  other  room.  I  had  my  mittens 
and  overcoat  on,  and  he  said,  "you  pull  off  your 
hat,  you  insolent  puppy,  and  salute  me."  I  re- 
plied to  the  Captain's  kind  words  of  greeting 
that,  "I  will  not  salute  you,  but  excuse  me,  I 
should  have  had  manners  enough  to  have  removed 
my  hat."  He  told  me  that  he  "would  put  the 
irons"  on  me.  I  answered  him  that  I  did  not 
think  he  would  do  such  an  unmanly  thing,  at 
least  right  then.  This  exasperated  the  haughty 
Captain,  and  he  hollowed  for  the  First  Lieuten- 
ant to  come  and  put  me  in  irons.  I  asked  him 
what  he  was  there  for,  and  he  told  me  that  it  was 
"none  of  my  business."  I  then  got  pretty  mid- 
dling hot  myself,  and  I  told  him  that  if  he  did 
not  know  his  business,  that  it  was  "up  to  me"  to 
"put  you  next,"  or  words  to  that  extent.  I  told 
him  that  he  was  there  for  the  purpose  of  furnish- 
ing escorts  for  the  United  States  mail  and  that 
it  was  I,  and  not  he,  in  command  there,  then,  by 
virtue  with  the  position  I  held  with  the  Govern- 
ment, and  I  told  him  that  I  now  ordered  him_to 
be  placed  under  arrest.  I  called  on  the  Lieuten- 
ant to  place  the  irons  on  him.  I  told  him  that  I 
would  take  him  to  Leavenworth,  and  the  Lieuten- 


THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN  163 

ant,  delighted  by  the  change  of  program,  said, 
"alright." 

Captain  Conkey  then  told  me  that  he  would 
furnish  the  escort,  and  I  told  him  to  do  so,  then, 
and  I  would  leave  him  here,  that  I  had  no  room 
on  the  coach  for  such  a  "donkey"  as  he  was,  but 
that  I  would  tell  the  commanding  officer  at  Fort 
Leavenworth  that  we  needed  a  captain  for  the 
company  here,  in  order  to  save  time  and  trouble 
for  the  other  conductors  of  the  road.  I  told  him 
that  he  had  not  only  taken  up  time,  but  that  he 
had  made  a  perfect  "donkey"  of  himself,  and  of 
the  men  who  had  favored  him  with  this  position. 

Captain  Conkey  asked  me  if  the  Indians  were 
bad  again.  I  told  him  that  it  did  not  matter 
whether  they  were  bad  or  not,  I  wanted  an  escort. 
I  got  my  escort  of  fifteen  soldiers  at  last  and 
after  getting  the  teams  hitched,  off  we  started, 
the  soldiers  in  advance  to  break  the  roads.  That 
is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  all  the  use  we  had  for 
them.  We  could  travel  very  well  when  they  had 
ridden  ahead  and  broke  the  snow  so  we  could 
follow  the  trail. 

Daugherty  built  him  a  new  station  across  the 
creek  from  where  Conkey  was  camped,  on  Walnut 
Creek.  He  put  up  corralls  for  the  mules  and 
built  a  fort-like  building  for  his  home.  About  the 
time  he  had  finished  his  buildings,  some  white 
hunters  had  killed  some  Indians,  and  trouble  be- 
gan between  the  white  race  and  the  Indian  tribes. 

One  day  at  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon, 
Mr.  Daugherty  went  up  on  the  top  of  his  house 
with  his  field  glasses  to  inspect  the  surrounding 
country.  He  noticed  that  Indian  smokes  were 


164  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

all  around,  and  the  Indians  seemed  to  be  coming 
toward  them  all  the  time. 

He  hastened  down  from  the  roof  and  called 
the  orderly  from  Captain  Conkey's  company  to 
him  and  told  him  that  unless  the  Captain  moved 
to  his  fort  within  an  hour  and  a  half  that  they 
would  all  be  killed  by  the  Indians.  There  had 
been  bad  blood  between  Conkey  and  Bill  Daugh- 
erty for  quite  a  while,  and  when  Daugherty  sent 
the  orderly  to  Conkey  with  the  warning  of  the 
coming  Indians,  Captain  Conkey  got  mad  and 
told  the  orderly  to  go  over  and  arrest  Daugherty 
for  disturbing  his  peace.  Just  as  the  soldiers 
coming  to  arrest  him  stepped  on  the  bridge,  Bill 
Daugherty  halted  them.  He  said,  "if  you  come 
another  foot,  I  will  fire  on  you."  You  go  back 
and  tell  Conkey,  the  fool,  that  if  he  don't  get  you 
men  to  this  side  inside  of  half  an  hour,  you  will 
all  be  "gonners."  If  you  want  the  protection  of 
my  fort,  come  over  and  you  will  have  the  same 
protection  as  I  have,  otherwise,  you  will  go  up 
in  smoke,  holy,  or  otherwise.  Daugherty  then 
took  his  gun  and  went  to  the  Captain,  and  salut- 
ing him,  said:  "The  Indians  are  coming,  1,000 
strong,  and  unless  you  get  your  wagons,  etc.,  out 
of  here,  and  at  once,  you  will  be  scalped."  Cap- 
tain Conkey  then  decided  that  for  the  benefit  of 
his  health,  he  had  better  decamp  to  the  other  side 
for  protection.  He  just  barely  escaped  when  the 
Indians  swooped  down  on  his  camp  ground.  Then 
Daugherty  took  his  gun  and  went  to  the  bridge 
and  laid  the  gun  down  and  walked  over  it  toward 
the  Indians,  motioning  to  them  that  he  came  in 
peace,  and  for  them  to  come  and  get  something  to 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  165 

eat.  Daugherty  took  four  of  the  Indians  to  his 
fort  and  gave  them  some  bacon,  coffee  and  other 
provisions,  and  took  two  other  men  from  the  fort 
with  him  with  axes,  to  chop  wood  for  a  fire,  and 
they  cooked  a  meal  and  with  the  Indians  the  four 
white  persons  and  Bill  Daugherty  sat  down  to 
"meat."  Bill  Daugherty  showed  the  Indian  chiefs 
over  his  fort,  explained  the  working  of  his  guns 
and  cannons.  He  had  40  port  holes  in  the  houses 
and  shelves  under  each  one  on  which  to  rest  a 
gun.  After  giving  them  a  large  box  of  smoking 
tobacco,  he  told  them  they  could  go  on  back  to 
their  camp  and  that  he  would  keep  the  soldiers 
peaceable  if  he  would  keep  his  braves  peaceable. 
Captain  Conkey  told  Daugherty  that  he  believed 
he  would  go  down  and  see  the  chief,  and  Bill 
answered  him,  to  "go  if  you  d — ed  please,  and  you 
want  to  lose  your  scalp,  for  they  will  surely  not 
put  up  with  your  palaver."  Conkey  concluded 
that  he  had  better  remain  in  the  home  of  his 
enemy  than  risk  his  precious  scalp  at  the  camp  of 
the  Indians. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Colonel  Moore's  Graphic  Description  of  a  Fight 
with  Cheyennes.* 

That  Colonel  Milton  Moore  for  a  quarter  of  a 
century  has  been  a  prominent  practitioner  at  the 
Kansas  City  bar,  a  member  of  the  election  boards, 
and  is  now  serving  as  a  school  commissioner  is 
well  known,  but  that  the  old  commander  of  the 
Fifth  Missouri  infantry  was  ever  a  Santa  Fe 
freighter  in  the  days  when  freighting  was  fight- 
ing, was  not  generally  known  until  there  appeared 
a  month  ago  in  Hal  Reid's  monthly,  Western 
Life,  a  paper  written  by  Colonel  Moore  for  the 
Kansas  Historical  Society. 

The  story  is  that  of  an  engagement  between  a 
party  of  freighters,  with  whom  was  young  Moore, 
and  a  band  of  Indians,  in  1864,  not  far  from 
Dodge  City. 

The  story  as  told  by  Colonel  Moore  was  in- 
complete in  that  he  admitted  he  did  not  know  by 
what  Indians  his  party  was  attacked.  A  week  ago 
the  sequel  appeared  in  the  form  of  a  letter  from 
George  Bent,  at  present  residing  at  Colony,  Okla., 
who  has  written  to  Colonel  Moore  to  tell  him 
that  the  leader  of  the  Indians  he  fought  with 
forty-four  years  ago  was  the  notorious  "Little 

*NOTE.— Colonel  Milton  Moore,  the  signer  of  this  Preface,  is  a 
man  of  unusual  legal  ability.  The  confidence  reposed  in  the  old 
commander  of  the  Fifth  Missouri  infantry  is  clearly  set  forth  by 
the  fact  that  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  he  has  been  a 
member  of  the  police  and  election  boards  and  has  served  for  a 
long  time  as  school  commissioner  and  is  one  of  the  most  promi- 
nent practitioners  at  the  Kansas  City  Bar,  with  offices  on  the 
third  floor,  suite  3,  Rialto  Bldg.,  Kansas  City,  Mo. 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM   PENN  167 

Robe,"  no  chief  at  all  but  a  great  warrior.  With 
the  Bent  letter  Colonel  Moore's  story  is  complete, 
and  both  are  here  given: 

"After  the  commencement  of  the  Indian  war  on  the  up- 
per Arkansas  in  1864  caravans  were  not  permitted  to  pro- 
ceed westward  of  Fort  Larned  on  the  Pawnee  Fork,  or  the 
confluence  of  that  stream  with  the  Arkansas,  near  where 
the  city  of  Larned  now  stands,  on  the  river  road,  in  parties 
of  less  than  100  men.  In  August  two  trains  of  Stuart, 
Slemmons  &  Co.,  who  had  the  general  contract  for  the 
transportation  of  government  stores  for  the  posts  on  the 
Arkansas  and  in  New  Mexico  and  Arizona  that  year, 
reached  the  mouth  of  Pawnee  fork,  and  found  awaiting 
them  a  Mexican  train  bound  for  some  point  below  the 
Santa  Fe,  also  a  small  train  of  fourteen  wagons  under  the 
direction  of  Andrew  Blanchard  of  Leavenworth.  The 
name  of  the  wagonmaster  of  the  Mexican  train  is  not  re- 
membered, but  he  was  either  a  Frenchman  or  Castilian. 
The  S.  S.  trains  were  under  the  charge  respectively  of 
Charles  P.  McRea  and  John  Sage,  both  of  whom  were  men 
of  experience  and  tried  courage.  The  four  trains  having  a 
force  of  men  numbering  more  than  100  were  allowed  to 
proceed. 

"A  full  train  of  the  period  was  twenty-five  wagons 
loaded  with  freight,  and  a  provision  wagon,  commonly 
known  as  the  'mess  wagon,'  each  drawn  by  six  yokes  of 
oxen;  the  freight  of  each  wagon  was  from  6,000  to  7,000 
pounds.  There  was  one  wagonmaster,  one  assistant  and 
one  extra  man,  denominated  the  'extra  hand/  who  were 
mounted,  twenty-six  teamsters  and  two  night  herders.  In 
practice  the  night  herders  soon  became  teamsters,  replac- 
ing sick  men,  or  those  who  for  some  reason  had  turned,  or 
were  turned  back,  and  the  slavish  duty  of  night  herding 
cattle  fell  upon  the  teamsters. 

"Thomas  Fields  of  Jackson  County,  Missouri,  route  agent 
for  the  S.  S.  company,  was  elected  captain  of  the  com- 
bined trains.  He  was  a  man  of  many  years'  experience  on 


168  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

the  plains,  and  had  been  in  more  than  one  contest  with  the 
Indians. 

"The  rule  of  travel  was :  The  train  having  the  advance 
today  should  go  to  the  rear  tomorrow,  and  so  on.  Blanch- 
ard,  having  light  wagons,  which  could  be  moved  easily  and 
rapidly,  was  dissatisfied  with  the  rule,  and  refused  at  times 
to  be  governed  by  it,  with  the  result  hereinafter  stated. 

"On  Sunday,  August  21,  the  trains,  after  a  hard  morning 
drive,  reached  the  head  of  the  'dry  route/  which  left  the 
river  some  miles  below  the  present  Dodge  City,  ran  over 
the  hills  by  old  Fort  Larned,  not  touching  the  Arkansas 
valley  again  until  the  crossing  of  Walnut  creek.  McRea 
was  in  front,  followed  by  Sage,  the  Mexican,  and  Blanch- 
ard,  in  the  order  named.  The  region  was  known  to  be 
dangerous  because  near  the  great  trail  of  the  Indians  in 
their  journeyings  from  north  to  south  and  the  reverse. 

"McRea  went  into  corral  just  south  of  the  road  about  10 
o'clock  a.  m.,  and  Sage  and  the  Mexican  in  their  order,  but 
well  closed  up.  The  three  first  trains  corralled  so  as  to 
leave  room  for  Blanchard's  train  with  its  rear  resting  on 
or  near  a  bayou  in  such  way  that  it  would  be  practically 
impossible  for  a  band  of  Indians  to  sweep  around  it.  In- 
stead of  camping  at  the  place  designated,  Blanchard  con- 
tinued on  and  went  into  corral  about  half  a  mile  beyond 
McRea.  The  cattle  were  placed  south  of  the  trains,  near 
the  river,  and  guards  put  out.  The  trainmen  were  armed 
with  Minie  rifles,  and  the  order  in  force  required  that  these 
be  carried  in  slings  on  the  left  sides  of  the  wagons — a  rule 
but  little  observed.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  guns  were 
usually  in  the  wagons,  and  practically  inaccessible  when 
needed  in  an  emergency,  except  as  hereafter  stated.  The 
teamsters  of  McRea's  train  were  largely  from  Missouri; 
and  a  number  of  them  had  seen  military  service  upon  one 
side  or  the  other  in  the  Civil  War.  They  were  a  well- 
controlled  and  reliable  body.  The  first  mess  on  the  right 
wing  were  white  men,  excepting  the  negro  cook,  Thomas 
Fry,  who  was  afterwards  a  ragpicker  in  Kansas  City,  and 
died  there.  He  was  an  honorably  discharged  soldier  from 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  169 

the  United  States  volunteer  army  on  account  of  the  loss 
of  the  first  two  fingers  of  the  right  hand  in  battle. 

"The  second  mess  was  wholly  negroes,  or  'black  men/ 
as  the  Missourians  of  the  period  termed  them.  The  ne- 
groes, possibly  from  the  novelty  of  having  far-shooting 
guns  in  their  possession,  habitually  had  their  arms  at  hand 
when  in  camp,  practicing  at  targets  as  far  as  allowed  by 
the  rules  of  the  wagonmaster.  At  about  1  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  the  camp  was  quiet,  many  of  the  men  asleep; 
one  big  fellow  was  lying  on  his  back  under  his  wagon 
singing  'Sweet  Eloise/  and  three  men  from  McRea's  train 
were  out  more  than  100  yards  towards  the  ridge,  shooting 
at  prairie  dogs. 

"Suddenly  the  cry  of  'Indians'  came  from  one  of  these. 
A  glance  at  the  ridge  not  more  than  half  a  mile  away 
showed  it  to  be  covered  with  mounted  Indians,  and  a  dozen 
or  more  coming  down  the  slope  at  full  run,  evidently  in- 
tending to  overtake  the  three  men  before  they  could  reach 
the  corral,  and  were  in  a  fair  way  to  do  so,  and  possibly 
pass  between  Sage  and  McRea.  The  six  negroes  of  the 
second  mess  instead  of  running  inside  the  corral  and  firing 
from  behind  wagons,  as  they  would  have  been  justified  in 
doing,  boldly  opened  fire  on  the  advancing  party  and 
walked  out  to  the  road  towards  them.  This  turned  the 
Indians  and  the  three  men  came  in  safely.  Nevertheless 
five  of  the  Indians,  led  by  a  man  on  a  yellow  pony,  dashed 
through  between  the  trains  of  McRea  and  Blanchard  and 
very  near  the  latter.  Probably  forty  or  more  passed  around 
the  head  of  Blanchard's  train  and  came  in  south  of  it. 

"The  ridge  was  still  covered  with  mounted  men  who  had 
not  then  descended  into  the  valley.  When  Blanchard  saw 
the  five  Indians  pass  by  the  mouth  of  his  corral  he  mounted 
his  pony,  drew  his  revolver,  an  ordinary  36-caliber,  and 
rode  out  after  them,  evidently  not  noticing  those  who  had 
passed  around  the  front  of  his  train.  By  the  time  he  had 
gotten  possibly  200  yards  from  his  camp  the  Indians,  who 
by  that  time  had  concentrated,  divided  into  two  parties,  and 
one  began  to  drive  off  his  cattle  and  the  other  to  circle 


170  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

around  him,  lying  on  the  sides  of  their  ponies  and  covering 
their  bodies  with  shields.  By  this  time  the  train  men  in 
the  corrals  of  McRea  and  Sage  had  got  their  arms  and 
those  on  the  south  side  opened  fire,  but  at  too  great  a  dis- 
tance to  protect  Blanchard,  or  to  do  the  Indians  serious 
injury. 

"The  Indians  closed  on  Blanchard,  and  either  knocked 
him  off  his  horse  in  an  effort  to  get  him  onto  one  of  their 
own  ponies,  to  take  him  out  of  the  fire  or  he  fell  from 
wounds.  As  he  fell  his  fourteen  teamsters  and  one  night 
herder  left  their  corral,  and  without  a  word  of  command 
formed  a  line,  and  charged  the  mass  of  Indians,  firing  rap- 
idly as  they  advanced.  The  Indians  hesitated  before  giv- 
ing up  their  victim,  but  finally  retreated.  Blanchard  was 
able  to  get  on  his  feet  and  run  to  his  men,  who  brought 
him  to  McRea's  camp  where  he  died  in  an  hour.  He  had 
been  shot  one  or  more  times,  lanced  behind  one  shoulder, 
and  an  arrow  had  entered  his  back  near  the  spinal  column 
and  protruded  about  eight  inches  out  through  the  stomach ; 
this  he  pulled  through  himself  before  reaching  his  rescuers. 
When  his  postol  was  found,  which  he  had  dropped,  two 
chambers  were  empty,  but  there  was  no  evidence  that  he 
had  wounded  any  of  the  Indians. 

"We  buried  him  by  the  side  of  the  road,  and  upon  our 
return  in  the  fall  it  appeared  that  his  grave  had  been 
opened,  but  whether  by  savage  Indians,  wolves  or  loving 
hands  we  never  knew.  After  retreating  some  distance, 
driving  the  cattle  of  Blanchard's  train,  four  Indians  dashed 
back  into  McRea's  herd  and  took  out  about  one-third,  and 
a  few  belonging  to  Sage.  This  was  done  under  a  heavy 
rifle  fire,  but  so  far  as  ever  known  no  Indians  were  hurt. 
They  left  two  of  their  ponies  down  on  the  river  bank,  which 
probably  had  been  disabled.  The  Mexicans  sustained  no 
loss.  After  the  skirmish  was  ended  a  few  well  directed 
shots  dispersed  the  party  that  had  remained  on  the  hill; 
and  one  Indian,  not  exceeding  800  yards  away,  who  seemed 
to  be  acting  as  a  signal  man,  was  directly  fired  at — the 
rifleman  resting  his  piece  on  a  wagon  tongue ;  so  far  as  we 


THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN  171 

knew  no  harm  happened  to  him,  but  he  galloped  swiftly 
from  his  post,  and  was  not  seen  again. 

"The  Indians  drove  the  cattle  so  captured  across  the 
river  to  a  point  two  or  three  miles  away,  then  unsaddled 
their  ponies  and  rested.  About  4  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
another  herd,  consisting  of  horses,  mules  and  cattle,  the 
proceeds  of  other  raids,  were  driven  down  on  the  south 
side  of  the  river,  and  added  to  those  taken  from  Blanch- 
ard's  train  and  the  S.  S.  trains.  The  combined  herds  were 
then  driven  southward  over  the  sand  hills.  We  saw  no 
more  of  this  war  party.  It  was  anticipated  that  some 
might  remain  and  watch  for  a  messenger  that  must  neces- 
sarily be  sent  back  to  Fort  Larned;  if  any  were  left  we 
had  no  evidence  of  it. 

"As  all  of  Blanchard's  herd  except  two  oxen  had  been 
taken  it  was  necessary  to  communicate  with  Fort  Larned, 
the  nearest  military  post.  The  distance  was  estimated  to 
be  about  sixty-five  miles.  The  night  herder  of  Blanchard's 
train  expressed  a  willingness  to  go  upon  this  perilous  un- 
dertaking. While  making  his  preparations  at  McRea's 
camp  he  was  asked  if  he  wanted  any  money,  that  a  little 
might  be  found  in  the  train.  He  replied  that  money  would 
not  'help'  him  'on  a  trip  like  this,'  but  he  would  be  glad  to 
have  a  small  bottle  of  whisky  and  some  tobacco,  as  he 
might  not  get  anything  to  eat  before  the  afternoon  of  the 
next  day.  These  having  been  furnished  him,  and  when  it 
was  dark,  without  a  word  of  parting,  he  mounted  the  pony, 
off  which  Blanchard  had  been  shot,  and  rode  away  towards 
the  hills,  saying  that  it  was  his  purpose  to  keep  away  from 
the  road  and  travel  under  the  'tops  of  the  ridges.'  On  the 
second  morning  after  his  departure,  and  just  at  daylight 
a  body  of  soldiers  arrived,  accompanied  by  the  messenger, 
together  with  a  long  train  of  wagons.  The  commanding 
officer  took  charge  of  Blanchard's  wagons,  and  within  an 
hour  McRea,  Sage  and  the  Mexican  were  moving  on  to 
their  several  destinations  under  an  escort,  commanded  by 
Captain  Butcher,  Eleventh  Missouri  Volunteer  cavalry. 
The  remainder  of  the  journey  was  made  by  the  three  trains 


172  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

without  incident — Indians  having  been  seen  but  once,  and 
that  was  a  short  distance  below  old  Fort  Lyon;  the  party 
disappeared  rapidly,  and  was  evidently  traveling  and  not 
on  the  warpath. 

"Returning  to  the  messenger,  his  courage  and  boldness 
stamped  him  as  a  man  whose  name  should  be  preserved, 
if  possible,  in  Kansas  historical  collections,  but  I  never 
heard  of  him  again,  and  do  not  remember  his  name,  pos- 
sibly never  knew  it.  The  plainsman  of  that  period,  like 
his  successor,  the  cowboy,  was  not  inquisitive.  He  might 
ask  another  where  he  was  from,  but  rarely  his  name — 
never  his  former  business.  The  messenger  was  then  of 
full  middle  life,  rather  stout,  with  sandy  colored  hair  and 
beard,  and  brown  eyes.  He  was  simply  a  night  herder, 
probably  had  no  other  occupation,  but  like  the  trapper, 
the  hunter  and  the  plainsman,  he  has  probably  joined  his 
class. 

"In  1877  I  was  at  Dodge  City  several  days  taking  testi- 
mony in  a  case  growing  out  of  the  loss  of  a  train  of  mules 
near  the  Cimarron  crossing  in  the  year  1864,  and  one  after- 
noon, in  company  with  a  former  member  of  the  firm  of 
Stuart,  Slemmons  &  Co.,  drove  down  to  Fort  Dodge  and 
below  to  identify,  if  possible,  the  place  where  Blanchard 
was  killed,  but  could  not.  From  the  course  of  a  bayou  I 
was  led  to  believe  that  the  guard  house  at  Fort  Dodge  was 
located  at  or  near  the  place  where  the  rear  of  the  Mexican 
train  stood.  However,  there  was  no  landmark  by  which 
the  place  could  be  reasonably  identified.  In  years  past  I 
have  made  many  inquiries  to  learn  if  possible  what  band 
of  Indians  made  the  attack,  but  have  obtained  no  satis- 
faction. It  was  the  opinion  of  our  captain,  Thomas  Fields, 
judging  from  their  mode  of  attack,  that  the  Indians  were 
Comanches  or  Kiowas,  or  both." 

In  1908  I  wrote  George  Bent,  a  former  school  mate,  and 
received  the  following  reply: 

"Colony,  Okla.,  Jan.  17,  1908. 
"Colonel  Milton  Moore,  Kansas  City. 

"Sir:  I  have  seen  published  in  a  Western  periodical  your  paper 
now  in  the  archives  of  the  Kansas  Historical  Society  relating  to 


THE    SECOND   WILLIAM    PENN  173 

a  battle  your  train  had  with  a  war  party  in  August,  1864,  near 
where  Fort  Dodge  was.  Cheyennes  were  camped  on  the  Solomon 
river.  Several  war  parties  started  from  this  village  to  make  raids 
on  trains.  Most  of  these  parties  went  to  Platte  river.  The  Sioux 
joined  these  war  parties  that  went  to  Platte  river.  'Little  Robe,' 
now  dead,  was  head  of  this  party  that  your  trains  had  fight  with. 
There  were  twenty  or  thirty  warriors  in  this  party.  The  man  you 
speak  of  riding  the  yellow  horse  in  the  lead  was  'Bear  Man.'  He 
was  no  chief;  only  grand  warrior  in  battles.  I  was  in  the  Chey- 
enne village  when  these  war  parties  started  out  and  I  knew  this 
young  man  well.  He  died  at  Darlington  agency  several  years  ago 
from  an  old  wound  he  got  fighting  Utes.  He  was  about  twenty- 
five  years  old  when  he  led  that  charge  through  between  the  trains. 
The  war  party  did  not  drive  the  cattle  very  far  out  when  they  left 
them.  Just  before  this  fight,  in  July,  I  think,  the  Kiowas  and 
Comanches  attacked  a  train  or  two  at  Walnut  creek.  They  killed 
several  teamsters.  Brother  Charles  was  at  Charley  Rath's  ranch 
on  Walnut  creek  at  the  time.  He  told  me  about  it  when  he  came 
to  the  village  on  Solomon  river.  The  whites  started  this  war  in 
1864.  As  I  was  with  the  Cheyennes  at  the  time  I  knew  what  took 
place.  The  Kansas  Historical  Society  ought  to  get  the  Indian 
side  of  the  history  of  all  these  wars  between  the  whites  and  In- 
dians. 

"Respectfully  yours, 

"GEORGE    BENT." 


CHAPTER   XXV. 
Pecos  Church. 

I  will  call  attention  to  the  Old  Pecos  Church  which  was 
probably  owned  by  the  Roman  Catholics  at  one  time,  but 
which  was  in  ruins  when  I  first  saw  it,  as  I  drove  by  with 
my  stage  coach  to  Santa  Fe.  It  stood  twenty  miles  east 
of  Santa  Fe  on  the  old  trail.  The  walls  were  built  of  adobe, 
the  doors  were  round-topped  and  built  of  solid  hewed  tim- 
bers, with  wooden  hinges,  wooden  latches.  When  I  first 
saw  the  old  ruins  it  had  a  belfry  on  the  top  of  it  with  a 
rounded  topped  opening  in  it  the  same  as  the  doors  below. 
This  church  was  built  on  the  plan  of  a  fort.  When  it  was 
originally  built  it  was  the  storage  place  for  all  kinds  of  am- 
munition, Roman  spears,  shields,  breast  plates,  guns,  pow- 
der, ammunition  of  every  kind  and  character,  used  by  Ro- 
man Catholics  for  war,  and  was  probably  built  by  the 
Aztec  Indians  who  were  under  the  control  of  the  Span- 
iards. It  was  said  to  be  300  years  old  when  I  saw  it  53 
years  ago.  It  was  a  two-story  structure,  built  of  adobe, 
or  sun-dried  brick.  The  floors  of  the  building  were  built 
of  some  kind  of  concrete  and  were  hard  and  glossy.  The 
upper  floor  was  built  of  eight  by  ten  timbers  laid  solidly 
together  with  a  crease  in  the  crack  of  each  timber — dove- 
tailed— the  cracks  in  the  timbers  fitted  so  closely  together 
that  the  creases  did  not  show.  The  under  part  of  the  floor, 
that  part  which  was  exposed  as  ceiling  for  the  lower  room 
was  lavishly  hand  carved.  This  carving  was  said  to  have 
been  done  by  the  Indians.  There  was  carved  in  some 
places,  Indian  squaws  with  their  papooses  on  their  backs, 
heads  of  big  braves,  mooses,  bow  and  arrows,  fish,  deer, 
antelope,  horses,  lizards  and  almost  everything  imagined 
was  carved  in  this  timber.  Those  parts  not  exposed  di- 
rectly to  the  elements  were  in  a  good  state  of  preservation, 
while  those  pieces  exposed  to  the  weather  were  brittle  and 


THE    SECOND    WILLIAM    PENN 


175 


THE  PECOS  CHURCH. 


176  THE  SECOND  WILLIAM  PENN 

would  crumble  like  chalk.  In  the  picture  of  the  Pecos 
church  you  will  note  the  pieces  of  fallen  timbers.  Kos- 
loski  was  a  Polish  ranchman  whose  ranch  was  traversed 
by  the  Old  Trail.  This  was  a  very  picturesque  ranch  at 
the  foot  of  the  Glorietta  Mountains,  half  mile  from  the 
ruins  of  the  old  Pecos  Church.  He  bought  the  ruins  of 
this  once  famous  temple  and  built  stables  for  his  horses 
and  cattle.  Kosloski's  ranch  had  at  one  time  been  a  famous 
eating  station,  noted  for  its  profusion  of  fine  mountain 
trout  caught  from  the  Rio  Pecos  River  which  ran  near  the 
cabin.  On  this  famous  ranch  four  miles  east  of  the  Pecos 
River,  the  Texas  Rangers  fought  their  fight  with  the  Union 
soldiers  and  were  whipped.  Gone  are  those  old  days,  gone 
are  the  old  people,  gone  are  the  bones  of  the  soldiers  which 
have  bleached  upon  the  ruins  of  the  Old  Trail.  Silence 
reigns  supremely  over  the  once  famous  ranch,  broken  oc- 
casionally by  the  screams  of  the  locomotives  as  they  whiz 
by  on  the  Atchison,  Topeka  &  Santa  Fe  Railroad,  puffing, 
screeching  and  rumbling  up  the  steep  grades  of  the  Glori- 
etta Mountains. 

W.    H.    RYUS. 


THE  END. 


PB-0005390 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


C  2  77 

DEC  9    1977  IB'I      I 

MAR  11*80 

MAR  20  ISSOREC'O 


3  2106  00065  5206 


KIT  CARSON 

Who  Always  Traded  with  Indians  Instead 
of  Fighting  Them. 


